A Tale of Spices And A Wolf
by Grimmhausen
Summary: The story as retold in the Picaresque style, and set in Renaissance Europe. Rated M for ribaldry. Comments welcome.
1. I

**I.**

Many years ago in Liège, during the Great Reformation, and the subsequent wars, there lived a merchant by the name of Lawrence. One could say (and a few did) that Lawrence was as honorable a young man that ever was. He had no deficiency of wits, looks, or manners, knew his business well, and was not prone to any particular vice or excess. Indeed, he was most humble and patient, and no one who bargained with him ever regretted doing so. But Lawrence was also a man of small ambitions. His greatest in life was to be a shopkeeper, a profession many do complain that they have been saddled with. But in Lawrence's case it may be a little more justified, as he was really little more than an itinerant peddler. He went from town to town with a little mule-drawn cart which he had to ride and drive himself. And not for him were rich cargoes of oriental silks, exotic spices, or jewels and precious stones, or even more mundane needfuls like lead or coal. But instead he carried grain. A great weakness of Lawrence's (that he could afford no guards for his wagon) was offset by the fact that only the most desperate of highwaymen would ever bother him, and his utterly meager wares. Though people in the villages and larger towns tended to smile well upon Lawrence when he passed, they always had a twinge of heart upon doing so, as even the street urchins and vagabonds sought for themselves greater things than did he.

Lawrence was wont to trade with a tiny village in the hills known as Pasrót. For this town always produced great quantities of wheat every year, which they were all too willing to sell Lawrence, or to any man who happened by. 'Twas a poor place, some thought inbred. And not only that, but they kept to themselves certain pagan practices. I do not rightly know why the archbishop did not order the town burnt for this, or even dispatch inquisitors to put it to trial. I would think some exchange of favors was involved. But either way, Lawrence was too good-natured and harmless a fellow to spread word of the heresy to the folk in the city. And so he had a productive means to purchase grain at a low price, and sell it for higher. As for the practice itself, the villagers almost all believed that the reason their harvest was always so bountiful was because of the intervention of a certain spirit. They thought that this spirit must be appeased by means of a ritual. Every year at harvest time, the villagers held a festival in honor of Horo (the name of the spirit), which they thought took the form of a great wolf. They would construct a wooden effigy of a wolf and adorn it with flowers, and around it would dance, and drink and make merry. And when the time came to cut the wheat, they held that the one who cut the last bundle of wheat from the earth must become the spirit's thrall. Upon cutting the grain, he would howl up at the sky like a wolf, and the other villagers would chase him into a barn, and lock him in. There the thrall must sit the whole night through and give praise for the spirit's promise kept, and if the spirit was pleased, it would surely take possession of them.

But in Lawrence's time, these practices, though still performed, were done mostly in jest and drunkenness. For the villiagefolk thought that they no longer required the favor of the spirit to bring a bountiful harvest (and in truth the spirit had always seemed to be quite fickle). And so it happened one year that Lawrence came into the little village at harvest time, his wagon full of salt and little animal hides for trade. He arrived to see the folks in good cheer, as the harvesting of wheat was nearly done, and everywhere they did loiter and drink. When he came up, one said, "Alas, here comes the peddler with our year's ration of salt, now is truly the time to celebrate!" And Lawrence smiled at this. Though the men of the village were generally loutish, and no great company, there lived in the town a girl who was his acquaintance, even his apprentice of sorts. Years ago he had taught the girl, Chloe, what he knew of business and trading. And she was quite eager to learn all he had to teach. She was strong-headed and industrious, much like her father, whom Lawrence had once known well, before his unfortunate end. And so Lawrence turned his attention out into the fields, where the peasants were beginning to make a stir. Standing before the very last bushel of wheat was Chloe, and the farmers stood around her, cheering her on to cut it. The girl was far taller than he remembered, a long white dress covering her thin frame. With little hesitation, she bent down and cut the bushel. And then, raising it aloft, howled up at the sky, as best as her lungs were able. And before the farmhands could even put a foot forward, she was already dashing straight towards Lawrence's cart. To the peddler's great surprise, she jumped nimbly into it, and next to him, and with dark eyes peering straight and full into his, her tan brow gleaming with sweat, and her braids smelling of the freshly cut wheat, said, "Oh, it has been so long, sir, won't you call on me tonight?" And in an instant she was off the cart again, and running into the barn.

Lawrence did not stay the night in the village, however, because Chloe would be shut up in the barn, and outsiders were always regarded with a certain suspicion. He would not risk the rapport he had. After his trading with the elders was done, he set out with his cart to the bank of a nearby stream, where he would sleep rough under the stars. The moon was very high and bright when he arrived, with hardly a cloud to obscure it. The wind was cool and pleasant, and after he had led his mule down to the stream, he went to the back of his cart to make his bed. Just as he was pulling back the covering, he heard something stirring in the bed underneath. After an instant's hesitation, Lawrence threw off the covering entirely, exposing the whole cart to the light of the moon. To the man's utter amazement, sleeping under his pile of furs was a woman. At first he thought Chloe might have stolen away, but 'twas not she. The girl's skin was as white as ivory in the moonlight, and auburn tresses adorned her delicate face, which could not be that of any mere peasant. Lawrence stood gaping for a moment, when the girl began to murmur and stir. He remembered then the circumstance. And just as he was about to put his hand upon her to wake, he thought he saw something twitch on top of her head, like little tufts of hair that protruded straight up from her scalp. He shook his head, thinking the darkness played tricks with him, and again resolved to wake her. Just then her eyes snapped open, looking straight up and into him. They were the color of dull garnets and dried heartsblood, and not merely look as any man does to another did they, but seemed to be a weapon in themselves, stabbing straight and true. Lawrence was shocked again, so severely that he dropped the piece of jerky that was about to be his supper, and drew back. The girl carelessly yawned and stood up from the furs slowly, her whole body now visible. She was stark naked in the moonlight, with straight long hair of wondrous quality flowing down her back, and her creamy skin had not a flaw or blemish of any kind. She looked to be a girl who was only just entered into womanhood, for was not a hair to be seen on her nethers, and her breasts were small and taut. She stood still and straight in the cart, and gazed upward at the moon, her eyes just as intense. Just as Lawrence would again regain his composure, the girl drew herself back, and with eyes still fixed on the full moon, let out the most ghastly howl to surely ever be heard in those wilderness. The sound was no product of a fair maiden's throat, but the cry of a grown wolf. So great was it, that Lawrence's mule became quite startled, and dogs and wolves for miles around set off in a shrill chorus of their own. Lawrence was nearly knocked from his feet, for surely this girl was possessed by a demon, or else a witch had fallen from her broom into his wagon. And again his thoughts were interrupted as the beastly girl began to smile and said, "Ah, how fortunate that I would awake to such a lovely moon as this. You, boy, do you have any ale that I might refresh myself?" She turned her gaze to him, quite composed, and seeming almost lascivious. Lawrence stammered out, "I have neither food nor drink to give devils and witches!" And then he drew his knife from its place on his belt, and pointed it squarely at her. The girl looked slightly perturbed, and responded, "How rude of you, pointing your little knife at me?" It should be noted that the girl did speak French perfectly, although with a somewhat peculiar accent which I cannot describe fully, though it was perhaps German or Danish in nature. And with that, the girl looked ponderous for a moment, then said "Oh! You are not a native of the village I abide in, are you? In that case it is I that owes the apology." As Lawrence, now dumbstruck again, lowered his blade, the girl spied the piece of meat he had dropped to the ground, and bent full over from the end of the cart to pick it up with her teeth. And so she treated Lawrence to another shocking spectacle, a great bushy tale covered in red fur with a white tip that protruded from her backside. It wagged merrily to and fro as she arose again with the meat in her jaws. The girl took a moment to gulp her meal down, hardly chewing, but swallowing instead like a dog. A grin was upon her lips now, which she licked. She turned to him and said, "I hope you can forgive my forgetfulness, and are pleased with this shape that I have taken, for I am Horo."

"Horo, you say? The Horo, and no other?"

"I know of no others. Is it not a fine name?"

"I know of another. The spirit that the villagers just over the hill entreat every season come harvest time. Be it thou?"

"Indeed. I have been bound to this land for many years now, and the people of that village prayed to me for a good harvest. However, I am not some demon or spirit of the woods that demands prayer and sacrifice. I am simply Horo. And I'm sure you think that I am some poor wretch who is demented, and with deformity."

Lawrence was taken aback, for he did not doubt until then that this was some monster of legend (for if he was dreaming or not, he was not certain). But now he thought that what she suggested might be true. But she continued, "I was born in a great forest far to the north, where day is short and night is long, and all is covered in snow. That is my home, and it is to it I wish to return. Are you not a traveler? I wish to come with thee."

"Why wouldst I take you?"

"Ah, but there are many things I can grant you, for I have long dwelled in the world, and know much." And she reached down toward him and touched his face with her fingertips, hers was full of bawdy delight.

"I'll do no such thing, and stay back!" Lawrence shouted, and the girl drew back, her expression now one of hurt.

"Wouldst thou be kinder, sir? For I am all alone now." And Lawrence did relent at that, for the she-wolf had chosen her shape well. But before anything further could be said, the girl sneezed. "Ach, 'tis far too cold to be conversing like this, I do hate having to wear furs without having any of my own." And she settled back down into the cart with Lawrence's furs. But the man was not satisfied, and climbed too into the cart, interrupting her sleep. "If thy truly be the goddess of harvest, and not merely a madwoman, or possessed, prove yourself."

"Wouldst thou see me as I am truly am?" The girl sat up, and was irked.

"I would." Lawrence grew more nervous by the second.

"I do not care to."

"Why wouldn't thou?"

"Why would you see me thus!"

The girl stood and was flushed. Lawrence could not look her in the face, and so turned away.

"If thou are truly the good spirit who makes grain grow, perhaps you could bestow good fortune on me. But if you are some child possessed by demons, then I must bring you to the city where you may be exorcised."

He looked again upon her, and she looked at him intensely. "I ask again, would you have it thus?"

"I would."

She turned from him, and said, "To take this shape or any other requires a true sacrifice. I must either have fresh blood or grain."

"I would much rather it be grain." And so she took a stalk of wheat that Lawrence had bought, and chewed some of its kernels. Just as she had swallowed them, she doubled over, seeming in pain. And just as Lawrence was about to go to her, the said transformation occurred. What had once been the delicate little waif had grown into a great red beast all of three stories high, which quickly leapt from Lawrence's cart, lest it crush it into the dirt. 'Twas verily like the adversary of some forgotten Greek hero, either a fox-like wolf or wolf-like fox, it peered down at Lawrence with great yellow eyes which were blood red in the center. And he could not let out a yelp from fright, but promptly soiled his breeches.

When Lawrence again came to his senses, he found himself underneath his cart. Standing up and looking around, he could find no trace of the girl or the beast that he had seen and conversed with, except that the items that were in his cart were now scattered all asunder. His mule was still standing as it was next to the stream. Had it been some evil dream, he wondered. Had he been slipped a poison by those foul villagers? Either way, his appetite for sleeping under the stars, he found, had left totally. And so he decided to make his way back to the village for the night. On arrival he was quick to find lodging, for the villagers were just then going to their drinking, and an old man offered him his house to rest in. Lawrence did not sleep, but instead lay on the bed clothed, pondering what had transpired in the woods. Was it truly a dream, or had he gone mad? Had the ancient spirit of this impious place really visited him, and marked him as her servant? Or perhaps the Devil was taking what was due him, for Lawrence had never had much fondness for churchmen and prayer. But as was fast becoming the theme of the night, his thoughts were interrupted by a rapping upon the little shuttered window of the cottage. "Who goes there?" "'Tis Horo." The voice was a girl's. Lawrence sat up with a start. And with his hand upon his knife, slowly lifted the wooden shutter. And greeting his eyes behind it was a terrible visage of a wolf with teeth bared. Lawrence jumped back, and his legs began to shake. But the wooden mask was moved aside, and behind it was Chloe. "Silly man, you look like a frightened sheep!" The comparison did little for his nerves, as Lawrence thought he may well have been such a meal for a wolf that night. "Will they not be angry that you've left the barn?"

"There are no spirits there that need pleasing. You're a grown man, and should know better. Come now, you promised me your company." Lawrence tried to calm himself, further reassured that it must have been a dream that he saw before. And so the girl was off with Lawrence in tow, out the small window and to a secluded room in the barn. Once inside by the light of a well-used candle, Chloe and Lawrence exchanged the pleasantries befitting friends who had long been absent of one another's company. It was not long before Chloe was wont to talk of business, particularly how great it had become in the village after she had begun "overseeing all foreign transactions", as she had put it. Lawrence smiled, hmm'd and haw'd at her triumphant talk of success, though he rather doubted certain details, particularly that the town now had a sizable savings of golden Dutch ducats hidden away. But nonetheless, he was pleased with Chloe, for she had taken to heart what he had taught her, and her eagerness to impress him would drive her onward to further learning. However, she was perhaps getting too confident. Chloe continued, now finished with affairs of her little town, she told him how she was informed of the practice of currency speculation by a local tanner, who had learned of it from a cousin who was a church official. "It is surely the most brilliant, unsurpassed scheme in all of creation, earning greater quantities of gold from lesser! Archimedes could not devise anything more clever. So what say you Lawrence? You and I could pool our funds and begin this immediately, and be living in all luxury before next harvest!" At that Lawrence was finally forced to sigh and shake his head. With knowing grin he replied, "Child, you are confident beyond your years and means. Such propositions are not for novices in secluded hamlets, or even established men with property to spare. Great risks come with such dealings, and I would not see either of us come to ruin. If thou art but a little more patient, you shall have a far better time in business."

"Like a pauper with a mule-cart?" Chloe said this under her breath as she turned away in disappointment, but Lawrence heard. Smiling, he said, "I tell you what, next time I'm through here, I'll bring you a deal less likely to get you put in debtor's prison." Chloe then looked at him fiercely. Her eyes reminded him of the wolf-girl's, and his condescension quickly evaporated. She sat up from the bench they had occupied in a huff, and threw herself down on a pile of hay in front of it. "Some day you'll regret taking me so lightly."

"Perhaps I shall." Looking down at her, he saw her legs were fully bared, her white skirt askew around her thigh. Her upper body was turned toward him, her budding bosom in plain view beneath unbuttoned blouse. Lawrence quickly blushed and turned his head, setting off giggles from Chloe.

"I'm not a child anymore, Lawrence."

"Perhaps not, but you are not yet a woman, nor a merchant."

The pair walked along the newly mowed fields just as the light of dawn was beginning to creep up the hills. Chloe did not remain angry, for her youth ensured that her moods were ephemeral. Lawrence had started thinking again of the transpired events near the river, not just the terrible beast, but the beautiful maiden. Long had he wandered empty roads alone. "Did you ever find a companion, Lawrence?" Chloe looked to him with concern. "I can't imagine traveling all the dusty ways with only a mule for company."

"Oh, you would be surprised at what you may be met with in the open countries..."

"Oh? Such as what?" He had gotten her interest, which was not what he desired.

"Like for instance, Horo." Lawrence's tired nerves had slip what would have most wisely been kept hidden.

"You mean me?" Chloe donned her ceremonial mask again.

Lawrence could do naught but nod.

"Ha, you buffoon, there are no such things about. You really do think I'm still but a witless child." Lawrence was somewhat relieved that she thought him a joker, rather than a madman. They presently arrived at the cottage where he had been staying, and there parted ways. Lawrence entered the house and dropped onto the bed without thinking, his weary body would have nothing else. And as he would finally drift off to sleep, a voice from very close by whispered, "I'm surprised you told her of me." Lawrence turned his head, and lying there next to him was the maiden. She smiled gently, serene and unashamed, lying fully nude on the bed next to him, save for the fluffy tail twined about her legs, and her hair covering her breast. He saw that she indeed had little dog's ears atop her head, which were red with little white tufts at the tips. Lawrence knew not if he was dreaming or awake, or mad, but never before in any state had he encountered anything like her. Something in his mind, perhaps his common sense, cried out, telling him to be afraid and run, but his eyes would not let him be drawn from her presence. Despite her certain inhumanity, she was more lovely a girl than he had ever seen before. Perhaps it was just his tiredness, or perhaps the years of loneliness, but Lawrence then decided he would not leave this creature behind him. Seeming to sense his thoughts, the girl turned and arose from the bed, walking slowly to the other end of the room, she began to speak. "Many years ago, I was asked by the folk of this village to grant them a good harvest. I became bound up within the wheat that is grown, and I made it bountiful. But the land could not always sustain such a rich bounty, and at times I had to give it rest. The villagers became resentful then, saying I was flighty and unpredictable. Now finally they doubt that I am here at all, and think they no longer need me anyhow. But because you are taking that bundle of wheat out of the town, I may leave it as well. I suppose I am in your debt, for I no longer wish to stay here." Just then, the rosy light of dawn flooded in through the small window, bathing her form in radiance. She turned to him, smiling. Lawrence could scarcely speak fast enough. "I'll believe what you say, for the time. I may happen yet upon your homeland in the coming months." Horo giggled quietly, "Still, you doubt?"

With the sun climbing toward midday, Lawrence was off with his cart from the village. Only he sat in the driver's seat, and he was quite weary still. But also, a certain headiness was about him, which those who knew him would doubtless find odd. Just as they had crossed over the first of the low hills, and were out of sight of the village, a rustling could be heard from under the cart's covering. Horo's grumbling was lost on Lawrence as he guided his mule down the ill-kept road, but it was not long before she made her presence known. Emerging from the back of the cart, and taking a seat beside him, Lawrence regarded her with less-than pleasant countenance. "Are those clothes you wear not exquisite? Their tailoring flawless, and their cloth of the highest comfort and quality?"

"Indeed." the wolf answered, "I could not have asked for better."

"Well, I am glad for that, as those are the best set of clothes I own, which took me five whole years of trading to acquire. Take them off, and get off my cart now, unless you have the coins to pay for them."

"Ah, but you would not leave me in the road." The girl grinned wryly. "Come now, let us try to appreciate one another's company. And besides, would you rather I had stayed naked when we come into town?" And at that, Lawrence had to concede. She continued, "Worry not about your fortunes in the present, for I shall for years to come tell tales of thee... What are you called?"

"I am Lawrence." He placed a hand on his now aching head, and restored his attention to the road. Horo was in pleasant spirit, her tail wagging jauntily from beneath the blouse of his finest attire. Together they rode toward the new horizons ahead. And thus was how an Artemisian huntress of wild northern hinterlands became the wife of a penniless Walloon merchant.


	2. II

**II.**

By the next morning, Lawrence and Horo had entered the forests outside of Leignon, where they had stayed the night by the side of the road. As Lawrence dutifully gathered his provisions and loaded them back up, his most peculiar companion sat in the back of the wagon stroking her luxuriant tail. As he labored, she boasted of all the miraculous qualities which made her invaluable to any who traveled the open road. For instance, her eyes and ears could sense danger minutes, even hours before it was happened upon, and could even tell lies from truth, simply by hearing them. However, such menial things as cooking, cleaning, keeping tidy, fetching water, pitching camp, striking camp, starting the fire, tending to the fire, or almost any other industry which makes traveling long distances possible, Lawrence found, was utterly beneath such a wise and venerable wolf as she. Just as he was about to mount, Horo stopped her jabber and stood up up straight and fast as an arrow. She became tense, and took a stance as if about to fight, her eyes were wild and searching below her for something Lawrence could not detect. She then fixated on some spot close to where he was, and began to move methodically and menacingly toward him. Lawrence sat still and sharp, looking at her, his hand felt for the knife at his belt. He knew not what apparition might set the huntress to such distress, but at that time, would have expected anything. Horo suddenly sprung forward faster than he could move his eyes and caught something between her palms which was about to land on his shoulder. Both stood down as she withdrew, and examined her strange prey. Flicking the black speck from her hands, she griped, "Aye, already I am visited by emissaries of the great and mighty kingdom of fleas. Thou ought to keep your cart bed cleaner."  
"Oh, but would they think to make their homes in any lesser place than your glorious tail?" Lawrence sighed and prepared to shake the reigns, as Horo lit up at his flattery. "Ah, you have good taste my-", she suddenly ceased, and looked to the sky. "It seems your cart shall soon become clean, along with I and thou." Storm clouds began to drift overhead as he turned back to her.

By the time they had arrived in town, the rain was already pouring down, and the sky sunless. Lawrence first visited the town's chapel to offer donation, for he wished to know of his companion. Arriving at its door he dismounted and met the deacon just within the threshold, making sure to lead Horo near. For she was clad in his cloak, which he usually wore for bad weather, but now had become necessarily hers. Lawrence left his copper, and was quick to be gone, his aim accomplished. For he knew that not the Devil nor all his servants could stand to be at the threshold of a church, nor anywhere near one, and Horo had made not a sound. So she could not thus be a demon. The priest had also seen and acknowledged her, and wished the newlyweds well. So from that, he knew he was not mad, and imagining her. Lawrence could now soundly conclude that Horo must be what she claimed, or else some trickster of incredible ability. In either case, he now felt as if his life was being pulled away from calm waters by some strange and inexplicable tide. But his years of travel and trade had made him accustomed to braving the harsh torrents of fortune. And so, he continued on through the downpour, now taking his new circumstances in stride.

The pair soon arrived at the hospice, which the church provided for travelers. Lawrence left his bride in their room as he diligently offloaded his wares from the cart, and stabled the mule. When he returned to their room (which was little more than a shanty covered by straw), he opened the door to see Horo stripped bare, and attempting to wring the water from his fine clothes with her little hands. He did his best to keep his eyes off her as he entered, and quickly barred the door. He stood at the opposite end of the room, and began to undress himself to the waist, and dry his own soaked clothes. He did his best not to turn when Horo said, "I suppose that was clever of you, to take me to your sacred place." She laughed a little. "Some day your kind will learn better." Lawrence did not acknowledge the barb, but instead turned to business. "What should I do with your grain? If you do reside in it, can it be threshed and sold off?"  
"It may not be sold to far away places, for it is bound to me, and will die when not in my presence. Likewise, I may disappear if the grain is destroyed. But it can be threshed."  
"So it would be best if I could put it in a bag or pouch, and have you keep it?"  
"Ah, that would be quite useful, you are proving to be a worthy companion."  
At that, Lawrence could not help but turn to her, to see her pleased with him. And indeed she appeared so, and also was her body fully exposed and facing him. Lawrence quickly turned away red-faced. Spirit or whatever, he would have to talk to her about modesty soon. She noticed his hesitation and seemed to have concern of her own. "What's the matter, am I too wet still?" And when Lawrence turned to respond, she shook herself off like a dog, and soaked him. Upon wiping the water from his eyes, he saw Horo bending over very close to him, seeming to sniff his abdomen. She quipped, "My, even after all that washing you still smell like a stable keeper", and giggled. Lawrence at that point lost the remains of his patience, and stood back. "At least I have the modesty not to go about naked and shameless before men!" Horo raised an eyebrow and became serious, cocking her hip she replied.  
"You foolish men. You swing to and fro between self-indulgence, and self-denial without knowing the meaning of either. Tell me, who was it that taught you that 'modesty' was virtuous?"  
"'Tis said in the Bible."  
"And who reads you the Bible, and tells you what it means?"  
"The priest does."  
"Ah, and what other things does the priest do and say? I have seen them order towns destroyed, children burnt alive, and whole races wiped off the Earth. There's one living not far from here who sits in a palace and gets gout while his flock starve in the streets outside his door. I think you would be better off without your priests. But then again, I am just an immodest little nuisance, aren't I?"  
Lawrence listened to her in silence, his face betraying no reaction. He could only consider that perhaps she was a wise old wolf after all.

The pair soon found that the damp little room was no good place to dry clothes, and so they left for the main hall where no doubt a fire had been started to serve just such a purpose. "Whatever you may think of modesty, don't go exposing yourself to any who happen by."  
"I have traveled to many places in this shape before, and never once was discovered, except when I wished it." She put particular emphasis on the last words. Lawrence knew even less what to make of her than when he met her, but he had little choice now but to remain with her. They soon arrived in the dining hall which was wrought from stone, and large enough to accommodate many. Taking seats in front of the great hearth, they quickly became quite dry and comfortable. It was soon after that Lawrence spied a wealthy-looking man enter with his aged wife into the hall, and approach the hearth. Lawrence knew well that merchants were wolves themselves, of a sort, and could recognize their frilly prey in an instant. When the man had sat down close by, he began immediately to converse about such trivialities as the weather, the state of affairs in the east, and the rising price of furs. Once the man's tongue had been loosened, he began to talk of himself. Lawrence learned that he owned a vineyard in Luxembourg, and had to travel to Hamburg to secure a deal with a buyer of his wine. Lawrence feigned interest with finesse, applying all his knowledge of the regions of Köln and Hannover (which he had mostly heard in local taverns) so as to advise him on his journey. In truth though, the man was doubtless beyond help, to travel through such places at such a time, and with livery as he wore. When the discussion turned to him, Lawrence was equally prepared, embellishing his achievements just so as to make them impressive, but believable. He became a storied trader of many years, who normally dealt in Antwerp, but appreciated the opportunity to return to his homeland on such chances as he could. He was willing to trade with the locals mainly as a service to them, and did so with his cart mainly to admire the scenery. He spoke also of the bartering he did to obtain furs and salt, which seemed to impress the man greatly, more so than anything else Lawrence had said. For to him, and so many others, currency and coinage were the lifeblood of commerce, rather than simply another commodity. Lawrence knew he had a potential asset in this good-natured but ignorant fellow, heartily agreeing to pay a visit to his vineyard some time when he happened by. Through all this, Horo sat stone silent, and for that Lawrence was most appreciative. For if she proved to be a nuisance at such times, his business would doubtless face ruin.

After the parties had taken their leave of one another, Lawrence hunched forward and allowed himself respite. He knew the girl would mock him later for his dishonesty, as no doubt her pride put her above such things. However, she did not reveal herself to the villagers when she dwelt there, allowing them to worship and pray to her, though it really did no good at all. Perhaps wolves and men both had no choice but to survive on such deceptions. No sooner was he about to ask her of her opinion on his performance, than they were joined by a stranger. The man, really little more than a boy, grinned broadly as he sat before them. He had a gap between his teeth, and his clothes looked like they might have been stolen off a corpse. He was grinning still when he spoke, "Ah monsieur, what fine work just now. I myself had wished to talk with that man, but you did first, and swept him right off his feet! I ought to be taking lessons from you!"  
"I'm just a common merchant, neither more nor less."  
"Well, I'm sure there's plenty you might teach me, for I'm just beginning. Oh, and pardon my rudeness, I am Zenobe."  
"I am Lawrence."  
The two shook hands. "If you have patience, you're sure to pick up all the abilities you'll need."  
"Indeed. Ah, who is your companion?"  
Horo still sat silent, now between them, the hood of the cloak concealing her face.  
"This is my wife, Diana." Horo was silent still.  
"You must value her greatly to keep her so concealed, a merchant must always hide well what he holds most dear, yes?"  
"I suppose, but-"  
"Might I have just one look, monsieur? Even wrapped I can tell that she must be truly a jewel."  
The vagabond put his hand forward to lift her hood, but before Lawrence could utter a word, Horo spoke for herself,

"_How long, how long, in infinite pursuit  
__Of this and that endeavor and dispute?  
__Better be merry with the bounteous grape  
__Than sadden after none, or bitter, fruit."*_

Both men gaped for a moment, as Horo smiled, and was quiet once more. "That's quite a remarkable wife you have there" Zenobe had withdrawn his hand, and began to sweat from the heat of the fire.  
"She lives up to her name, I suppose." He smiled weakly, he too was off guard. He imagined Horo's tail wagging along with the dancing flames.  
"Well, in any case, I have a proposition that should be of interest."  
Now both wolves were alert and attentive.  
"It must surely be God's will that I met you here, monsieur. I have been searching for someone I can trust with what I have learnt, and I can see the two of you must together be peerless."  
Lawrence appreciated the flattery, as shallow as it was, for affirming his decisions of late. He might very soon know if Horo was a valuable asset, or a flea-bitten bag of hot air.  
"I have heard from a very good source that certain coins minted in Flanders will soon be re-struck with a higher silver content. If we can gather many of these coins now-"  
"And exchange them, so we'll make a profit from their deflation."  
"Ah, right, monsieur! You said you traded in Antwerp earlier, did you already know of this? Am I trying to sell wool to the sheep?" The man laughed nervously.  
"No, I haven't been there any time recently. I didn't know of it."  
"Ah, yes, very good. Well then, what I suggest is that the two of us invest in the buying of this currency, then split the profits when it is exchanged. I ask only for a small fee for telling you which coin it is."  
"And how will we divide our earnings?"  
"Evenly, of course."  
"Oh? That's quite generous of you."  
"Aha ha, you think so? Well, I am still new in this business. Perhaps I should take more for myself later." He continued to laugh. Lawrence could not tell if it was truly because he was new, or if he was nervous because he was trying to swindle. This was fast becoming a very risky proposition for him.  
"Well, that most certainly is an interesting proposition you've brought me. I'm flattered you would hold me in such confidence. However, my wife and I are weary from our travels, and will have to take our leave now. Would you care to continue our discussion of this in the morning?"  
"Oh, most surely, monsieur! I am sorry to have tried your patience. May you have a very pleasant night. I look forward to our next meeting"  
Zenobe gave an exaggerated bow to them, and left the hall. To Lawrence, he seemed very relieved to have been given an excuse to depart. But there were other things to be done now. He was quite famished.

Lawrence arrived back at their room from the still pouring rain, and carried the night's provisions into their little shack. By the dim light of his lantern, he saw Horo atop one of the beds, diligently brushing her tail with her fingertips. Though she had taken off the cloak, he was happy to see that she still wore the rest of her clothes.  
"Ah, what a wonderful smell surrounds you now."  
Ignoring her, he set the lamp and a large bowl down on the table between their beds. Horo took immediate interest in the still steaming contents of the bowl, which Lawrence had taken great pain to keep from getting wet.  
"Is that our dinner. potatoes with.. goat cheese?" Horo had not the slightest reservation, a look of glee upon her face as she reached for the food that he had paid for and provided.  
"Pardonner." Lawrence said sharply and loudly enough to stop her fast. He mentioned nothing of her manners, but instead produced another item from his coat, and tossed it before her nonchalantly.  
"A little bag of wheat?"  
"As you requested."  
"Ah, well that is most thoughtful of you, now onto-" Before Horo could complete her own sentence, she reached again for the food.  
"_Pardonner._" Lawrence was more pointed, and gave her a stoic look.  
"I hope you do not forget that everything I've provided for you thus far, including the bag, the strap, the threshing, and that food, which you so want, has cost me a great deal. I do expect it all to be paid back in full." He was proud to be firm with her, and to do so justly.  
"Is that all you have to say?" Horo looked at him with visible disdain, and keenly posed to snatch the food he had not yet agreed to give her. Lawrence could do naught but close his eyes and allow the inevitable to transpire. Horo began greedily grabbing the still very hot potatoes from the bowl, and forcefully stuffing them into her mouth with hardly another care. He was rather perplexed that she was so keen to eat vegetables. He nearly expected to have to obtain some discarded cuts from the kitchen to satisfy her appetite. Nevertheless, she appeared to enjoy the food greatly, at least for a moment or two before another inevitability transpired. Horo let out a very muffled yelp as her throat was both burned and clogged at the same time. She snatched the wineskin full of water on the table and poured much of its contents into her already crowded mouth. As she quietly coughed and gagged, Lawrence stood still, but did not take as much pleasure from her predicament as he thought he would, or should. Horo quickly recovered, and was quite vocal of her displeasures.  
"How can you survive with such narrow openings for throats! And why for all love, would you keep your food so exceedingly hot that it can't be eaten!? Did your 'god' order that you punish yourselves for gluttony?"  
Lawrence looked on almost bemusedly at the girl's outburst, which was very unlike the demeanor of a great sage that she claimed she was. Though on the surface, this creature seemed to be at the very least a bother, and at worst a thief, his instincts told him to bear on with her. She might, after all, have a great use.  
"Perhaps God wants to teach men patience, so that's why we must chew carefully, and take care to swallow only what we can." He condescended to her once again.  
"Hmph, damnable potatoes." Horo, looked away from him and began to lick her fingers clean of the food. Lawrence took the opportunity to bring his scheme into motion.  
"So, what did you think of that brat's story?"  
"Brat? What ever would thou mean?" Horo's look turned wry.  
"I mean the man who told us about the coins."  
"Oooooh. I don't know what you mean when you say 'brat', since both you and he would seem like brats to me." Horo giggled at having returned his barb. This did not sit well with Lawrence, and he showed it. How could she throw childish tantrums one moment, and act sagely the next? Horo seemed to sense his thinking, and quickly added,  
"Well, I suppose you are a bit more mature." She looked at him with a calm, almost warm gaze. And Lawrence's temper could not help but be cowed.  
"Well, anyhow," he quickly regained composure, "you said you were able to hear the difference between lies and truth, did you not?"  
"Hmm." Horo became thoughtful. "I might, although I am not always correct when I guess. Trust in it or not. Although I could definitely tell that you weren't honest when you praised my fur earlier."  
"So then, was he lying?"  
"He was. I do not know precisely which part of his story was false though. And in any case, you would be far more interested in the reason behind his lie anyway. Isn't it so?"  
Lawrence was surprised, motivation was indeed the most important in deal-making, whether one's intentions were honest or not mattered little in the larger picture. And it had taken him no small effort to realize it.  
"Tell me, what would you have done if I wasn't here to answer your question?" Lawrence didn't expect her question, but he was nonetheless prepared to answer it.  
"Assume he was telling the truth for the time being. I would do what I could to investigate his circumstances, and find out what I could about this bargain. If I found he was honest, I would stand to profit. But if there was a conspiracy, or swindle, I could also profit from that knowledge."  
"Ah, so it appears that no matter what I said, your course of action was clear from the beginning. I can see you're hardly in need of tutelage, but nonetheless, I have the experience of many lifetimes at my disposal."

Lawrence awoke to the sound of the bells' tolling. It was nearly midday already, and light poured through the cracks in the shack's flimsy roof. Looking to his side, he saw that Horo was gone. He worried little, sure that she wouldn't cause a fuss, at least not when he was absent. He got out of bed, and began preparing for departure. When his arduous work was finished, he took the time to wash his face and arms in the well at the center of the old churchyard. The skies were clear and bright above him, today's ride would be good. He turned at the sound of the abbey's great wooden doors creaking open. Emerging from it came one of the clergymen accompanied by a small, hooded figure whom he quickly recognized. He started as she began to walk slowly away and towards him. What business could she possibly have had with a priest? Had he been tricked somehow? Had she implicated him in the heresy of her existence? She walked slowly in silence with a faint smile on her face. When she finally reached him, she clasped her hands together in front of his face, as if to silence his inevitable questions.  
"May your soul become rich, dear husband. Why not make a donation, surely that is investment in your spirit!" Horo's bouncing voice and wooden grin served to set Lawrence at ease. He put a coin in the church collection cup nearby, at which point the priest that was nearby returned inside, seemingly satisfied with the gesture. Horo's look changed to a more sincere, but still somewhat bemused one.  
"They've gotten awfully haughty haven't they?"  
"You mean the church? They've always been like that, back to the time of my great grandfather."  
"It's changed since I've come here. They weren't as powerful before." Lawrence didn't know terribly much of history, but he was fairly certain that the Catholic church had had a firm grip on his land since the last days of Rome, nearly a thousand years before. They presently seemed to be alone in the old courtyard. Surrounded by the nearly crumbling two story building which housed the clergy, Lawrence was struck with an overwhelming sense of time. The town around him had seen countless people walk its streets, and the old church had baptized them all within its moldy stone walls, back through countless winters, falls, springs, times of war, and peace. Coins pressed with the busts of countless kings and bishops slipping downward through the centuries into obscurity, and standing in his midst was a little girl for whom it all must seem as but a single heartbeat. She was turned away from him now, but he had a hunch she was ruminating on similar thoughts as he. He couldn't begin to imagine how it must feel to her.  
"It has all changed a great deal, and I suppose it's changing still." He hadn't heard Horo's voice take on that tone since the night he had first met her, when she talked of the village that had forgotten and abandoned her. Without hesitation, he stepped forward to her, and rested his hand gently on her shoulder.  
"And have you changed as well?" He could feel her gently shaking her head in response. "Well then, I'm sure your home hasn't changed either." Horo giggled quietly, and when she turned to him, her cheeks were aflush cherry red.  
"Tis shameful for me to be comforted by children such as thee." She continued laughing and ran away towards the exit. As she reached it, she called out back to him,  
"Come on now, you! We're going to be late if you keep dawdling!" She was smiling at him, despite the taunts. Lawrence stood where he was and gaped for a moment, with the feeling in his mind that he had the wolf by the tail for an instant, but it had slipped away. But nevertheless, he wasn't about to give up the chase.

*Author's note: this is a quote from Omar Khayyam's _Rubaiyat_.


	3. III

_These aren't going to be as long as the actual episodes from now on._

**III.**

"Thine new friend is a funny one, tramping through the mud while we ride in a wagon."

"Muddy roads make our wagon slow, and time means all to merchants. Should you not know such things by your great wisdom?"

Horo had returned to her usual self, at least as much as Lawrence could tell, by the time they had set off from the town. Now they traveled toward another village called Passon, where the men had agreed to meet next. Lawrence could make few bargains with only pelts in his wagon, and so needed to sell them for coins. Zenobe had been as toothy and solicitous as he was the previous night, and did not stay long to speak, but walked surely ahead of Lawrence and his new bride.

"But is it not a good opportunity to learn more about this man and his dealing if you had this opportunity to speak with him?"

"Hmm, perhaps, but it would also be a imposition on my part. Wasting his time is just the same as taking money from his pocket."

"You and your time. I know the lives of men are short, but should you really be so preoccupied so?"

"After your long years observing villagers, I'd think you would understand its value. Are not their entire lives spent watching the hour?"

Lawrence was surprised that something so obvious could have escaped her. But as he was quickly learning, when Horo spoke earnestly, she was usually right.

"The hour? Of course not. How long do you think they've had clocks to tell time with? Thou silly man, _your _years observing the villagers should have taught you better."

Lawrence began to wonder if he should even bother to disagree with Horo anymore, but no. No, he resolved that starting to think like that was no good at all.

"The people in the village don't need any fancy clock or calendar to tell them what to do. They simply look around them."

"What does thou mean? How would they know when to sew the fields without some sense of time? Otherwise they might plant seeds in the middle of autumn and try to harvest in winter."

"How silly you are! They don't need a schedule to know what to do. The earth tells them all they need. The light of dawn, and cawing of the rooster wakes them from sleep. The coming of daylight sets them to work on the land. The falling sun bids them goodnight. And to the seasons, they sew seeds when they see the plants sprout bright and new. They water the fields when summer's heat parches the earth, and they know to harvest when the leaves and fruit start dropping from the trees in autumn. So there's no need at all for people to know what time it is, nor myself! You'll learn too when you get older and wiser as I am."

Horo was almost childish the way she huffed herself up with pride at her insight into the relationship between man and nature. Lawrence knew it was a rather naive perspective, but one that did explain how people got on before there were clocks or sundials. Again he caught himself wondering just how old Horo really was. On the surface she did seem quite like a spoilt little child playing with the toy of her own experience, and likewise with him. But time would tell if she knew how to take matters seriously.

"Yes, you are a clever one, I can tell, but there is simply no substitute for experience. You will come to understand this in time, child." Horo giggled, she was enjoying herself a little too much.

"Well then, how many centuries have you been telling that tale of seasons? It sounds pretty well-practiced to these ears." Horo laughed even louder.

"Ah, see, you're catching on already!"

"Hmm, you're starting to sound like an old crone to whom all are but babes."

"You're quick to forget, though, I'm not a human like you."

Horo was still smiling, but not in a way that put one in pleasant mood. "Do you know why wolves attack men in the forests? It's because we want to take your brains, and become as smart as you."

The temperature in the wagon was beginning to drop. A cloud seemed to fall over them as they passed further into the woods.

"Have you been attacked before?"

"I have, eight times." Uncontrolled memories overtook Lawrence's mind. They had been cocky to go into the mountains at night. One of them was already paying the price. He could hear their teeth snapping behind them, as close as his coat tails. He knew there were others coming up around him, but he had no choice but to keep running. There was another who could draw them off. He forced himself out of that state, he had gripped the reigns so tight his hands hurt. Horo was still speaking, though he hadn't heard her. "We keep eating humans in the hope that we can-"

"That's enough. I apologize for insulting your age." His voice was harder than he had intended. Horo read his expression and seemed to infer his issue.

"I'm sorry."

She seemed genuinely so. It would take a time for the memories to leave him, as it always did.

Presently they passed out of the thick patch of forest and into open plain, where little hamlets sat off the road on winding dirt paths. Steeples jutted out from each of them like mortuaries atop graveyard mounds, a reminder to keep their conversations out of earshot of the locals. They traveled on in what was a rather refreshing silence to Lawrence, he couldn't help but be a little gratified that he had managed to cow Horo. Even if this had come at a cost. Something inside him was growing distressed at the clear inhumanity of her. She was right, they were not the same. As human as she could appear, she was an animal, a aberration, something that men ought not to trifle with, and yet... As a merchant, he understood the importance of being the first to claim an asset, an edge, an insight.

"Are you still mad?"

"Why would I not be?"

He was so mired in his thoughts' frivolous conflict that he didn't realize that she was still moping. It was late in the afternoon already, the sky was still clear and bright, and the absence of nearby people allowed them to talk freely. Horo had turned away from him again, but she wasn't just cross as she had been before. She was taking this seriously. He was somewhat relieved. Long minutes passed in silence before Horo finally spoke,

"The towns are the domain of men, while the woods are the domain of wolves. When wolves trespass in town, we are slain, and likewise when men trespass in the woods, they are slain in kind. It has always been mutual fear that has driven our action."

"So have you too killed men in the forest?"

Horo suddenly grabbed his arm, as if shaken by some unpleasant recalling of her own.

"There are things which I will not say, no matter the consequence." Her hand was rigid on his forearm. He only gave a slight nod in agreement.

"So, now we're even then." The usual frisk was back in her voice and eyes, just as suddenly as it had left. She laughed at his look of shock, though in truth, he had expected as much.

That night they camped in the open under the stars. The weather was clear, and the moon bright in the sky amid the veil of stars. Lawrence feigned sleep and watched her. She had not closed her eyes, but stared up from the simple mat that made their bed. So far they had not touched one another in the night. It was an unspoken agreement that they ought to sleep near each other to keep up the appearance of marriage, however. But Lawrence could only hold back so far. She was more than stunning in moonlight. She did not seem weary, nor disheartened, nor did she show any emotion at all upon her face, but was as a marble statue. For once, she did not appear to be a playful girl, nor a proud maven, nor anything he had seen in her before. She seemed very distant from him and strange, despite her beauty. Just barely, he could hear her whisper.

"I suppose we live in different worlds after all."

They say that many ages ago, in the time of Crusades, there once came a Frankish maiden to the camp of the sultan, Saladin. She approached without a hint of fear, and when she reached the lord's tent, she threw herself down in the burning sand and wept and begged him to stop his campaign, and spare the life of her brother who was of the Hospitaller, and the lives of all the young men who would die by Saracen arrow and sword. Saladin approached the weeping maiden and commended her for her compassion and bravery, to appear there far from her home and loved ones in a hostile land. But he said also that he could not stop his war, for the Latin invaders could not be stood to live in the Levant. "For wherever men and wolves dwell together in one place, always will blood flow in rivers."

The following morning they were off again, and soon in sight of the riverside hamlet. It was a clear, bright day that showed no sign of ill weather, and no trace of last night's glum pondering could be seen on Horo's face.

"Oh, so much food comes from this place, I can't wait till we arrive" A cart full of ripe apples and other fruit had just passed them on the way. 'Twas the fall market in Passon, which was well-known for its nearby orchards. Lawrence didn't understand how she seemed to pine for fruit so, but it was a better craving than that for human meat. He thought again of their talk the previous day, but drove it from is mind. It was better to bask in the sunlight while it lasted, and there was business to attend to as well. In town he would sell his furs and meet with the gap-toothed rascal with which he had made the bargain. In days past he would have been more cautious, not sticking his nose out with the chance that it would get lopped off. Only a few days ago he was advising Chloe against currency speculation (how it seemed like months). But something had changed in his nature since meeting the wolf-girl. He felt more driven and vigorous, perhaps out of a desire to prove his worth to her. How often she had belittled him with her paradoxical wisdom. But he was still the man on whom she depended. On that moonlit night she had pleaded for him to take her away from the village. Perhaps too the brevity of his own life was only now becoming apparent, as he sat next to as aged a creature that had ever trode the earth. And she seemed old at times, but not terribly so. She still had her good humor.

Presently they entered the town. In the bustle of the harvest market, no one paid his companion and he any mind at all. As they came closer to the market, Horo became more and more visibly enamored with the goods laid out in the sunlight. Bright red apples were piled high beneath the coarse burlap awnings, with peasants and traders such as he leisurely commuting twixt the stalls. Horo looked almost ready to pounce by the time they reached them. Lawrence had a time ago decided it was time to yank her leash.

"Ah, the apples do look fine this year."

"Oh yes, magnificent, I..." Horo's tongue trailed off, so transfixed on them was she.

"Hmm, well I can say from mine own experience that fruits are not the most worthwhile of investments. Indeed, an acquaintance of mine once made spent and made a considerable amount of gold from them, but there are other things more worthy of one's acumen. Take ships for instance." They had passed the stalls with the apples, as Lawrence prattled on in the most condescending tone he could manage. Horo could hardly contain the vocalizations of her dismay. It sounded as if some small animal was being deprived of its mother's bosom. "And so by properly manipulating the price of insurance, it is possible to make some kind of profit even from ships that have been sunk or plundered. Perhaps some day if I find myself in Antwerp or Amsterdam, I could reap a great deal from the sea trade." Horo was turned away, still leaning toward the apple stall as they slowly trotted away.

"Oh, was there something you wanted?" Lawrence looked at her sideways like an crocodile in the Nile delta.

"I... I wish for some apples."

"Oh? Well how would you pay for them? We merchants don't give away items for free, even to beautiful young girls."

"Don't you have plenty of coin to spend, or are you as much a failure at business as you are at politeness?"

"Who's this talking of politeness? A moocher who would take my coins without repaying me?"

"Do you think me some lowly urchin? I'm a wise wolf who knows far more than thee. I could pay your meager sums back whenever I wish!"

Lawrence was growing weary of their quarrel. He hadn't married her yet, and thus had no reason to fight like this with her.

"You certainly excel at bragging and speaking highly of yourself. Here, have one of my coins, but I do expect repayment in something more valuable than hot air."

"Humph, so thick-headed you are to doubt me still. Fine, just wait, and I'll show you what my long life's experience has gathered." Lawrence had to try hard not to quip "mold, moss, and weeds" as he halted the mule.


	4. IV

**IV.**

Some minutes later they were moving again, with the cart much heavier. His load of furs was practically obscured by a mountain of the red fruit, which Horo could hardly keep her hands off of. She savagely tore into their juicy hides as if they might fly away from her. Their passing attracted no few stares and grins from the locals, which put Lawrence on edge. This was also due to the fact that he was sitting on Horo's tail. He realized very quickly as she began her gorging that she could no longer control its spasms, and so under him it writhed like an eel in a fisher's net. If let it out, he was certain it would be merrily wagging still as they were hauled up to the stake.

"Must you have spent all the money I gave you? You think we'll get lodgings for free, as you do in the woods?"

"And why not enjoy the cart tonight? I can smell that the skies will be clear and pleasant, the sweet smell of the apples will perfume us. And perhaps we could celebrate that as they did in the old days." She leaned in next to his face and licked her lips lasciviously. Before he could turn and answer she pulled away and burst out in a fit of giggling. It seemed he ought to keep watch over her consumption of this serpent's fruit. It wreaked more havoc on her wits than wine or ale.

"Oh, I do miss the old times, you know. They would dance at night, and sing to the full moon, not minding at all to sleep out upon the grass, and among one another in the wheat..." She trailed off into revery.

"Well, I'm sure it must have been wonderful, but here in town we might get our throats cut if we try to sleep in the street. No shortage of killers in the Low Countries these days, better they just take the furs. And the damn fruit."

Lawrence reached into the back of the cart to grab one of the few apples still whole. But just as he had touched one, Horo slapped his hand away and growled as only a wolf could.

"I'll show you a killer if you touch those again!"

"Twas my money that bought them you drunken buffoon." He kept his voice as low as he could, but he had truly had enough of her idiocy. Maybe she really was a demon who had bewitched him after all.

No few troubles later they were at an inn, the price of which was low enough for the many migrant paupers and homeless destitute wretches from the east who found themselves there. The innkeep was fortunately not paying much mind, having doubtless seen all the faces of misery from his position. One apple-crazed wolf disguised as a girl traveling with an exasperated merchant wasn't enough to stir him from torpor. He only looked up once from the shadow of his wide hat. Once in their room, Horo was safely deposited on a bed so Lawrence could unload the necessities. Her mood had transitioned again, and she was no longer snarling at him like a feral cub, but had become a source of entirely new nuisances. Her tail waved at him enthusiastically, not unlike a stalk of ripe wheat in a strong wind. And there certainly was wind nearby, though not of the kind that invigorates one on crisp autumn days.

"So, tell me how the wise old wolf's wisdom led you to eat three dozen apples, and collapse into a malodorous heap on a grimy straw bed?"

"Oh t'was all worthwhile, all costs repaid in full. For while some never have a moment's respite from constant toil, or else never look up from their work in fear of losing a chance at betterment. The wisest always take the time to enjoy a simple pleasure, no matter the time and place."

"It seems more like you just lack discipline."

Lawrence couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her now, unmoving and languid, her speech barely oozing out.

"Feh, how would you know what that word even means."

An hour later they were on the move again, Horo's innards permitting. Eastward along the Meuse they rode into Liège proper, for that was the only city in the land that was truly worth trading in. They would return to Passon before nightfall. The city was an open cauldron of all manner of liveliness, which had only grown with the influx of refugees from Holland and Germany. They slowly progressed through the choked way of the Outre-Meuse to the warehouses nearest the waterfront. All around them the bustle of the city masked a certain palpable anxiety. In days long forgotten, it was said that Charles l'Magne had been born in Liège, a humble enough origin. But in this age, the great realm that he had so gloriously seized in God's name was rapidly disintegrating, with the very same dedications being flung from all sides. The inhabitants could not help but feel a certain oppression in the air around them. Lawrence did not particularly like coming to the city. The Millone company's warehouse was straight ahead of them now. The crowds began to thin, as only the merchants had any reason to go here. But new to this place were great numbers of beggars and homeless who hoped to get some coins from the men who had plenty to spare. Being not among that class, Lawrence sped ahead into a rather modest establishment off to the side of the main alley. Horo had been mostly silent, save for a few bodily emissions. Perhaps out of shame, or just the stupor, Lawrence could not say, but he was thankful for the respite. She seemed to take interest once they reached the merchant's quarter.

"That house is not as big as the ones near it."

"Yes, it belongs to a company based in Antwerp. Their share here is not as great as the local firms, but-"

"But from them you can learn of what goes on far abroad, and perhaps gain an advantage."

"...Yes, that's precisely it." He showed less shock than was typical this time. Truly, he was glad that her razor-sharp mind had been brought to bare once again, in impeccable time for its second test.


	5. V

_Merry Christmas. I spent most of Christmas Eve getting this done. These have gone from the length of the episodes, to the length of chapters in Simplicissimus, which I suppose is for the best._

**V.**

It was not quite as busy as its larger neighbors, but there was no shortage of bustle and toil inside. Workers pulled loads of meat, grapes, salt, grain, and other perishables from the boats that filled the river port while the sellers, buyers, lenders, fraudsters, and other middlemen nervously performed for one another inside. With smiles of rubber, the company's lackeys guided his mule into a stall where he would meet with one of the buyers.

Snapping on his well-practiced expression, eyes relaxed, but not lazy, lips firm but not stressed, and all pulled into balance. He met the propitious little Dutchman who was all but glowing at him with the possibility of new gains for all. The men here never seemed to lack that hope, despite all the troubles in the north, west, and east.

"Ah, a fine day to you sir. May you find all that you seek, and God make safe your journeys." He gave an exaggerated bow, round blue hat obscuring his immaculately manicured mustache and goatee. His French was nearly perfect, foreign, but constantly practiced. Horo stood still at his side, just as she had in earlier encounters. Silent and face obscured, a passerby might think she was just another downtrodden peasant's wife who had the unfortunate lot of being dragged about like just one more provision. But underestimation was just one more weapon the wolf has always brought to bare against a wary prey who would not suffer quiet and effortless defeat.

"You are Monsieur Lawrence, correct? I remember you stopping here a few weeks ago. It's so nice to see honest men such as yourself visiting us again."

"I'm humbled that you remember my name, I'm sure my visit was nothing remarkable." It seemed to become a contest to see who could give the other the widest phony grin.

"Well then, let's see take a look, shall we? Ah yes, those are some fine-looking marten pelts."

"Indeed, seventy in total. These are truly high-quality furs, and coming at a time when there will soon be high demand, and low supply as the townspeople are all harvesting."

"Quite right you are, sir." A brief instant of pain could almost be detected in his face that no one but the most astute would see. And apart from Horo, no one did.

"Well then, coming in this number, and as attractive as they are, I believe I can offer you a hundred and thirty two silver ducats for the lot."

"Well, sir that is a good offer, but you can see these are not typical furs that come in with the dust. Look at how they shine in the light, without a single patch of bare skins, and all perfectly trimmed as well. I was hoping to make this agreement a sort of lasting bond with your business..."

"Hmm, yes I see your point. I think I can offer one hundred and forty for such sincerity and good faith."

"From which mint are the coins?"

"Flanders."

"Oh, pardonner, my love, could we speak for just a moment?" Horo startled them both, but her smile put one at ease, and made the other more anxious. Lawrence quickly turned away and leaned in close to listen.

"Is his price a good one? I've been away too long to know the value of coins."

"Yes, it is plenty."

"Well then, shall we make a bit more of it?" Most girls can only look playful when they try to show their cunning. The predatory character in men has atrophied to the point of uselessness when stood against creatures that have for long aeons made it their one and only means of survival. For such things as wolves, cunning, viciousness, and the passion to make kill can be so easily pronounced as to be sensed with an absolute clarity. Even though Horo meant to kill only in figurative sense, she might as well have had her face drenched in blood when she smiled at Lawrence then. He was still a touch pale when he turned back to the negotiator, but Horo interjected before either could say anything.

"Oh s'il vous plait pardonnes, I just can't stay quiet any further! I tell my husband he should stop teasing people, especially important businessmen. But even now he's trying to fool you as well."

Lawrence was doing his best to go along with her, but he doubted he really seemed anything but a lamb caught in her midst.

"I'm sure he meant to show you later, but in the interest of saving your most valuable time, and mine." She leaned into the cart and grabbed on of the furs, and effortlessly tossed it right at the face of the shocked buyer, who could not help but let out a yelp. Several eyes turned toward their strange scene then, and Lawrence began to feel faint.

"What do you smell there?" The man had the fur close to his face, and gave it a tentative sniff.

"I-it smells like fruit. How?"

"These furs aren't just common wares of good grade, they are most peculiar indeed. The orchards near here have had great harvest this year, didn't they? So great that fruit was wasted on the ground, dropping from the trees before they could be picked. And so, the martens came in from the forests, drawn by the sweet smell, and ate the fruit. How often do you suppose that happens?"

"It must be exceedingly rare."

"Of course, the odds are very slight. But these furs are all from martens that ate fruit, you can try every one of them." The man did as she suggested, and sniffed several furs from the cart, which Lawrence allowed. All the ones that he grabbed smelled the same.

"Just imagine it, won't you? How much would a lady want a fur coat that came perfumed with sweet smells, or how great a gift would it make? How sensational would it be if such things could be bought in your stores, and only yours. Your reputation would soar above all the rest. I can guarantee you that my husband and I are the only ones who are selling the skins of fruit-eating martens in the Netherlands."

"Yes, yes, that is quite a remarkable find-"

"Oh dear, it is getting late isn't it, and we have so many more merchants to visit, don't we, darling?" It was all she could do not to show teeth, she had him cornered.

"Hmm, yes, I'll give you two hundred ducats for these right now." Lawrence's heart skipped two, perhaps three beats.

"Well, we had agreed to sell them for at least three ducats apiece at the minimum, which comes to two hundred and ten."

"Why yes, that would be just fine, so long as the sale is concluded right away."

"Is that fine with you, dear?"

Lawrence had just the presence of mind to nod.


	6. VI

**VI.**

By the time Lawrence had calmed down enough to think rationally, he had half a tankard of ale in him. He and his "darling little bride" were the only customers of a pleasant tavern near the waterfront. It was an hour early for dinner, but Horo would have nothing less than a feast in honor of their victory over the merchant house, and perhaps the overshadowing one over his own misgivings. Horo drank and ate in perfect contentment while Lawrence did little but think with a drink in his hand. They had made enough money from the sale (really _she_ had made) that their living expenses could be covered for and extra month, even despite her excesses. But the numbers had only taken a few seconds time for him to figure.

"What's the matter, everyone around is brought down thy sour face. Have a drink!"

"How? How did you know it would work?"

"Even I couldn't _know_ it would work, I just tried my best to be persuasive. Or do you mean about the apples?"

"Both, either. Were you ever a wandering merchant like me? Did you learn to be a cheat and trickster from the devil himself? Never in my life did I hear of using fruit to give scent to furs."

Horo just looked at him with half-comprehension, and answered earnestly. "Many years ago a wandering merchant came into town, and used the same trick to sell furs to the farmers. He traded them though, no one used coins there until just a few decades ago. But I saw what he had done from far away, as he came through the hills. I just copied him. Although I really didn't know if anyone would buy it in this age. If all else failed, I was going to threaten to bite his throat out."

Lawrence looked up with a start to see her smiling at him. He couldn't well stay bitter looking at that, but nonetheless he couldn't disperse the anxiety totally. After all, if Horo was telling the truth, they might very well have been run out of town. It was an outrageous gamble that she had planned and put into action without a word to him. The fact that it had turned out so well was irrelevant. He quickly downed another swig of ale, and tried to forget what would have been.

"It didn't take long at all for the farmers to realize what had happened. The smell doesn't last, of course. But by then the merchant had already left, and it did them no good to admit they had been fooled, either.. Pride can be worth far more than any goods, wouldn't you say?"

Like Horo's merchant, Lawrence wasn't confined to any one place. And the company wouldn't, couldn't admit that they had been fooled. The salesman who had bought the furs would be blamed for everything, and quietly dismissed. Chased down by a wolf, perhaps, but he had been both hasty and greedy in buying the furs. Neither of these impulses would ever bring lasting gains, and having Horo sitting there smiling at him was a greater gain than he can remember ever getting.

"So then, what of this scheme with the boy?"

"Oh, I've asked several places, but I haven't learnt anything about it. But as long as I ensure that I can sustain no loss, there's no reason not to proceed." It was true, but the words were as empty as the air between them.

The next hour slid by quickly, as he and Horo idly chatted about nothing of weight. He was drinking more than he had in many years, keeping up with Horo even. Zenobe was late, as could be expected easily, and Lawrence was strangely glad when he arrived. As his thoughts were starting to flow inevitably in one direction, and one only.

"Ah, monsieur! I am so glad to see you again! You know, I must tell you about a wild story I heard on the way here, about something that happened down at the markets. They were all saying a little woman and her husband were throwing furs at one of the vendors! I don't suppose that was-"

"What, but of course not! Such crazy talk, how could it be true!" The two men laughed heartily, the tension dissolved effortlessly. Zenobe sat down with his drink and began idly chattering himself about this and that, but before he could get too immersed, Lawrence intervened with business.

"So, we should confirm now what the details of the contract shall be."

"Oh yes, of course."

"You want ten ducats as deposit, and ten per cent of all my earnings from the investment, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And can you tell me where you found this information you're selling?"

Zenobe was sweating more by the minute, which Lawrence knew was a sign of inexperience. He had been much the same when making important deals earlier in his career.

"It was a rumor spreading through the silver mines. I was working there at the time, and had to get away, you see. I thought I could use it to make a new start back home, even if I couldn't be certain of it. Anything to keep me out of the army." He laughed nervously, but nonetheless seemed very different from his usual loquacious demeanor; he was almost sorrowful. Lawrence had what he had hoped to find.

"I would never trust someone with such a proposition who wasn't uncertain about it. I can't help but trust that you believe it, if nothing else."

Zenobe was clearly relieved, and impulsively raised his tankard. They drank to their good fortune. Horo was silent, as she had been before, following her own imperceptible trail. They all continued for a little longer, it was past midnight by then. They went their separate ways and promised to meet at noon in front of the notary's office to make it official.

Lawrence felt a certain clarity and energy as they returned to the dingy little room they rented. It was the state of mind that came only from staying up very late to hear a good story told, and drinking far more than one's fill. He had his arm around Horo, holding her close at his side. She didn't seem to mind.


	7. VII

**VII.**

"But what for art thou squeezing it? It won't get you any further along, I can assure."

"You think I should be doing it with mine eyes alone?"

"You're biting it!? Stop that, it's not made of steel!"

"You humans are so soft and sensitive... Even your coins can't stand up to the slightest distress."

Lawrence wearily put a hand on his face. It was nearly three hours past midnight, and his heady, inebriated sense of oneness with all that was good in life had evaporated about an hour before. Horo, however, had insisted that he stay up and teach her all that there was to know about the coins on which so much of their attentions had so recently been focused.

"How many more times must I tell you that you must look at the stamps upon the faces to tell where they are made."

"They are far too similar for that! What sense do your kings have, making all their coins look exactly alike, do they want to be mistaken for one another?"

She was seriously asking him this, and Lawrence wanted nothing more than to just shoo her aside and go to sleep. There are times when one is all too glad to make light of the idiosyncrasies of one's society to a primal forest creature, but late after a night's drinking was not one of them. He just collapsed backward with a sigh onto the flimsy bed he had been sitting upon. Horo deftly leapt onto his torso, straddling him as he let out an exasperated 'oomph.' She stretched her torso down upon his own, only coming up to the base of his neck, and rested her head upon her folded arms. Lawrence covered his eyes with his own arm, and tried to imagine her as a warm, heavy blanket upon him.

"I am far too weary for thy games. Get off so I can sleep."

Horo did not get off him, but instead slid slowly backwards toward his legs. "Hm, how disappointing. Not long ago you had me pressed close against you, now you only want sleep? Such a fickle child you are, you could never be a satisfying mate for a great wolf like me."

Lawrence looked at her from beneath his arm, her tail was wagging jauntily at him and Horo had that overly mischievous smile on her face that now seemed to bring him more anxiety than ease. He had wanted her, and he likely would again; but now was not the time.

"I'll teach you all you can learn about currencies tomorrow, but now I really need to sleep so I will have the wits to do so."

Horo, at last convinced that he truly was in no mood, rose up off his body and went over to her own bed. Lawrence drifted in and out of sleep for some time after as the fire in the room's tiny, rusted out stove grew low and weak, leaving only the moonlight. In his half-sleep, he occasionally would see little glimpses of the room, perhaps only dreamed. Once, he looked to the other side of the room, and saw her lying there. She was running her fingertips through her tail, as she was often wont to do when they were alone, but also for just an instant, he thought he saw a flash of light upon her face, a bright spark that was gone in an instant. As white as the pale moonlight coming in from the window it was, as though it had reflected off of something wet.

Lawrence was feeling better than he thought he would the next morning. The sun was high and bright, making even the dinginess of the room look pleasant and acceptable. From outside, the din of the busy streets just beginning to hit pace was all the encouragement he needed to rise and get ready. Horo had risen far earlier, when the stalls were first opening, dimly making vocal that she wanted something to eat. Observing her over the past few days, he was starting to wonder just how much she actually needed to sleep, for it could not be much at all. Twas really the least of his worries concerning her, however. She returned just as he was dressed, she was munching on one of several tomate-crevettes, of which she was thankfully willing to offer him a share. He wouldn't ask how and when she had gotten the coins for them, for it was certainly too early to start that particular discourse. He also wasn't going to ask her about what he saw last night. He reckoned that it must have been a dream, for she seemed in perfectly high spirits today, and there was no sense in spoiling the good atmosphere if it wasn't.

"It's still a couple of hours before the meeting, do you still want to learn about coinage?"

"Of course I do! How wise a wolf would I be if I did not?"

So they walked together through the crowded streets in the stifling heat of the rising sun. Lawrence hardly paid any notice to his surroundings whatsoever, he was too busy giving Horo an impromptu history, explaining why there was a "Rex Romanus", but still a number of other kings, dukes, electors, and prince-bishops, and various other powers in the world that issued their own coinage which could all be traded on the open markets anywhere (usually). But of course Horo had no interest in the pompous courts of far off monarchs, but wanted to know the easiest way to tell what ducat was what, and what its value in trade was.

"Venice!"

"No, that one was minted in Saxony, look at the writing."

"...Dutch."

"Close, it's from Hamburg."

"...?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, that one is actually Turk. I keep it as a good luck charm."

Before they could fall too deep into enveloping financial revery, they were at the office of the notary. A number of tedious minutes later, they were back out again. The two men said their well-wishing goodbyes and separated, likely for the last time.

"Where is the 'Spain', I hadn't heard of it."

"It's to the southwest, and goes very far in that direction."

It made total and complete sense that it was Spanish currency that would be getting more silver. The Spanish had been bringing in that substance in far greater quantities than had ever been seen in Europe before. Zenobe had related then how he had been working in the silver mines in the far northern deserts of New Spain, but had managed to leave miraculously as a deckhand on a galleon carrying sugar into Antwerp. Lawrence couldn't help but feel a certain emasculation in the face of his experience, he was his senior, and yet he had never been out of their homeland. One day, if he became rich and successful, he might travel to see the untamed wilds of the New World. That would only be a decision carefully considered, however, and he would never dream to take up residence there. It was the land of heroes and madmen, and Zenobe, being neither, had not fared very well there. Though it was sensible, there was one more avenue that Lawrence had previously neglected to explore in this matter, and it was no great joy for him to do it now, as was it earlier.


	8. VIII

_To think it's been almost a year and a half since I started this. And I'm only now past the third episode. But there have been plenty of times when this story has been there to keep me focused and inspired when nothing else has, and some people seem to enjoy it, so for that I will get it finished without fail._

**VIII.**

The noonday sun mingled pleasantly with the cool air of the riverfront as the city's market hummed with the numberless trivialities of life. There were a few things Lawrence held as absolutes, things taught to him as he had grown from difficult adolescence into manhood under the careful watch of the guild. One of his sacred tenants demanded that he get a second opinion from one who was learned. Lawrence did not have a complete knowledge of coins, he had often spurned their use entirely. As he walked solemnly along the riverside market it seemed almost that he was doing penance for his boldness by seeing Monsieur Clemant. Clemant was a man everyone in the city knew, or at least had heard of. Around him stories slithered, enshrouded and accumulated from every corner of the land, and he probably knew every one of them. It was said among other things that the Monsieur had been waiting patiently on the banks of the Meuse when the first Roman expedition reached "Belgium", and there had been naught around him but grass and wild deer; and also that he had been a witness to the Crucifixion. He had simply stood and stared from the back of the mob throughout and then quietly scoffed to himself at the Romans for granting such an indulgence to the Jews. Though by far Lawrence's favorite story concerning him (if you could truly call it a "favorite") was of the time when Charlemagne was still but a young man destined for greatness.

Parading through the muddy streets of Liege with his knights, monks, heralds, and various clingers-on, the golden, fair-haired boy hardly needed a horse for he was by nature a head taller than most grown men. Everywhere the simple folk swooned and delighted at this magnificent new scion who was sure to restore order and glory to the lands of Christendom. Before him came Clemant wearing a sagely brown robe and crossing before him on the road without acknowledgment. The young Hercules waived his followers aside and approached the old man fearlessly who now seemed dimly aware that this was not just another passing hay wagon. Just as the old man turned, Karolus said,

"Old man, I hath heard whispered from dark corners that thou art the oldest and wisest of all the good people of this fief who hath risen up from the earth with the hills as his brothers. I beseech thee to impart on me a token of thine vast wisdom so that I might rule as the far-gone Caesars hath, and bring glory and peace to the lands once more."

Karolus' followers were very impressed by this prodigy's display of wisdom and reverence, and happily murmured to one another as he bowed graciously to the aged man who only squinted perplexedly, for the sun had been shining on him from directly behind the young prince. As he rose again to shield him from it, Clemant seemed suddenly struck with inspiration.

"Ah, I might speak words to thee, my young master, though I doubt you would hear them with thy head so far up in the sky. I see thou art one who would reach upward toward the sun, and so must prevent it from shining upon some. Such I know is the cost which must be paid for this glory that one must seek, and perhaps too thine own kin shall be left in the darkest of shadows. But know also this, the sun has only but one path which it must traverse, and so thou must follow close. This is but one way, and no man hath yet ever changed it to match his own whims no matter the time or place. The brightest sun must inevitably fall away downward into darkness, the world left thus unlit."

A pall of silence fell over the prestigious assemblage then, and none moved to stop Clemant as he slowly trotted away on whatever errand had occupied him. It is said that upon his accession, Charlemagne ordered Clemant put in stocks. The old man was not released from bondage until Notger was made the first Prince-Bishop nearly a century later. Charlemagne was never recorded as having spoken to Monsieur, naturally. Although even today he is praised and idolized by good people across the land, so too does the king of France keep the golden sun as his emblem, it is chronicled in officium that Charlemagne died alone and in despair at his failure to restore Rome.

It was observed as a kind of right of passage for young merchants to present themselves to the Monsieur in one way or another so that he might gaze upon them with unblinking eyes of obsidian and speak to them their fate. That was just the superstition, of course. Lawrence had been goaded into his first meeting with the Monsieur by drunken comrades at the guild when he was eighteen. It was twilight and the old man was walking laboriously home with his worn and splintered cane. When Lawrence was pushed crudely before him, he smiled and said just, "Ah take good care, young man, and hold tight. Life runs fast and may throw you off some day" before continuing on his way. Somehow they seemed to have run into each other about once a year ever since. He was due for his visit now of course, for aside from all the entertaining myths it was known that there was no moneychanger more expert than Clemant. Lawrence had witnessed with his own eyes Monsieur skipping coins at random across a trough of water and guessing with reasonable accuracy their silver content from the sound they made. So it was to him that he took the new Spanish ducats in hopes that he could give final word as to their value.

The Monsieur spoke of many things, but not matters of business. He would tell you a coin's value if you asked him, but would not give any more advice on any investments or ventures than that. It was one of his many idiosyncrasies that he would all too happily bombard you with if you gave him but a moment. He had not mentioned anything of him to Horo save that he was a moneychanger and an old friend. There was little else he could say that would do justice, she would know soon enough. Some part of him feared that some very unfortunate provocations might soon transpire. It was perhaps just these nervous fancies, but it seemed to him that Horo was speaking less and less to him in public. One would normally say such people were shy, but that certainly was not Horo's case. He typically thought of her as his companion but when she behaved in such ways that were not of the playful little vixen she appeared, his thoughts drained away to places he wished them not to go. He imagined the great red monster trotting slowly beside him amid cacophonous shrieks of terror. The townspeople flee in every direction, some diving into the river and to certain death instead of the uncertainties of such a horror. Before them alone stands Clemant. He raises up his ancient cane, a limb cut from a branch of the Tree of Knowledge, and banishes the beast away to some unwholesome ether. Lawrence didn't like drinking because he was always in dark spirits the day after. Clemant was standing before them now, though he was not preparing magic rituals but looking like his typical nearly-blind self, not changed at all since that evening he had first seen him. Hatted and with pitch black overcoat even in the noonday sun, he squinted disinterestedly at passersby from behind his rickety little table, seeming to have no particular concern for earning his keep. Lawrence had to step within four feet of him before he noticed he was near, but he always recognized him right away.

"Oh! Bonjour, monsieur Lawrence! It has been such a long time since you have been in Liege, but I thought it might be time again, yes?"

One didn't truly converse with Clemant, but listened. Lawrence used to think that in his great age he had already heard everything that it was possible to hear, and so had no need to listen to anyone. Horo may have proven that wrong however.

"Ah what a fine day when the wind blows east from the blue oceans instead of west over the rich and fertile valleys of the Rhineland, all but bursting with their harvest of corpses. Almost enough to make you forget this world we live in, yes? How fare you on your way over it?"

"I'm beginning to feel both blessed and cursed by this world."

"There is an explanation for that, it stands beside thee! How long before you would introduce me to your bride my dear boy?"

Clemant's eyes had failed him long ago, but seemed always to be in perfect condition to detect whatever one would rather conceal. He moved around the table to Horo so as apparently to give her his full inspection.

"Ah so young she is, and modest, she speaks not a word. A wonder that you would find both qualities in one person, isn't it? A young wife must be desirable to you as a merchant, yes? Truly it is the best possible deal economically, as she can bear you as many children as you might possibly want, and still have time for more even. Oh, but please do pardon my rough manner, young lady. I have of late been spending a lot of time with the soldiers of our glorious Emperor and blessed Faith and so have acquired much that is vulgar and base. I am called Clemant"

Clemant bent down as well as he was able and took her hand to kiss. Horo allowed this, but was stone silent, and her thoughts indeterminable. Her face resembled the one Lawrence had seen in the cart on that starry night. It appeared both devoid of emotion and to be communicating some feelings wholly unknown to him and perhaps any man. Clemant didn't seem to notice, while Lawrence was transfixed.

"Oh my, I am flattered monsieur. My husband has told me all about you, for you are so wise and beneficent that he thinks of you as his grandfather."

"Ach, she flatters too! Lawrence! Did you kidnap a princess from Versailles?"

"My dear sir, now it is you who flatter."

Horo gave off a little giggle and left Clemant looking ever so slightly charmed.

"Well, well, young man, you have done well for yourself indeed, you have found a lovely woman whom I'm sure will keep your time filled with many pleasures. But of course I'm certain this was not the 'wise' council for which you came to me. I must confess that I have very little wisdom to give, for the way by which we men live our lives is in truth anything but wisdom, it is folly and self-deception."

Before Clemant could go a word further Lawrence thrust the Spanish coins to him.

"I understand that these have just been minted with a higher silver content than previously."

"Ah hmm." Monsieur immediately took them from his hand and began clinking them together in his hands next to his ears as was his peculiar practice. Lawrence saw for the briefest of moments a twitch atop Horo's head, but thankfully Clemant was turned away from her.

"Of course these ears of mine are not what they once were, and there are other methods I could try, but I believe this newer coin has less silver than the older."

Lawrence tried very hard to hide his shock, but figured Clemant must have sensed it anyway.

"Perhaps I should not say this in the open, but there is a very prestigious man in the clergy of my acquaintance, a man damned to hell by his own confession, who enjoys conversing with me time to time. He has told me what he has heard from men of the Inquisition who are here from Spain to ensure our happy adherence to God's way. Apparently Spain is not in happy circumstances herself despite all her vast fortunes. She is debasing her currency. For the unceasing wars with the English, the Turks, the German Protestants, the Dutch Protestants, and her own wasteful king have left no more wealth to her name, all the riches of the New World notwithstanding. Great glory creates only great excess it would seem. Several times has she wavered around bankruptcy in recent years."

Lawrence just stood in contemplation. Surely these words must be true, he had never once even heard of Clemant speaking falsehood. He felt like nothing but a pebble washed away in the river.

"Well my boy there are times when lady Fortuna smiles upon us and other times when she frowns. Though perhaps you will learn her step a little better from this, yes?"

The wars were not fought for Liege, the seas were far from Liege. Though from time to time there were disturbances, the church with its many tendrils of wealth and power could sweep them away with ease. His land was as a forgotten island left alone to itself as the world turned around it. Far from troublesome progress, men grow ignorant and pious, the church grows rich and strong, and merchants stay poor and unambitious. It was just such a place, such a place in which something like Horo might hide away unnoticed on some forgotten hillside. They walked briskly away from the waterfront through narrow, crowded alleyways until gradually the crowds melted away as the sky went to burning red, and the oppressive din of the city gave way to a kind of solitude. They were left in some crumbling niche where none would hear their words and care to listen. Ambition had always been alien to Lawrence, no less currency speculation about which he would have tisked at a month earlier as the most foolhardy of pursuits. Why had he done so? He could not find a convincing reason. But the past was passed.

"What did you hear from the coins?"

"Mine ears are not used to listening for such things, but I think the new coin sounded duller."

There was no question that it was of lesser value. The fact that he had lost only ten ducats was of little consequence to his spirit. As Horo had pointed out the previous day, pride meant more to most men than any worldly possession. He had fallen for what appeared to be a simple trick that even a child in a more cosmopolitan area would recognize. As a boy of the streets he had loved to gamble, but had forgotten the habit quickly when it had nearly cost him his life. It would seem that perhaps his old urges had reawakened, but despite the thrill of tossing his fate to the whims of fickle Fortuna, he had always hated losing far more. Now it was his reputation which would be tarnished if he did not discover a way to make use of these new circumstances. It was time now to eat and to think as long and deep as he had drank the night before. Something was missing.

"Folly and self-deception are indeed the means by which we men live our lives, would you not say?"

"Men who are doomed say such things, while men who are great only remember them and smile. You should visit that man more often."

"I think the other merchants would begin to fear me if I did. But why hath you been so quiet?"

"We must soon find a tavern as it is too late now to return to the village, my dear."

Horo took him by the arm and began to guide him away from the crumbling hook of brick and clay that was the deserted alley. It struck Lawrence all in a flash that it twas not some strange urge of shape-changing beasts that had driven her, but what must have been a transcendent tact.

They sat at a worn and splintered table in one of the less reputable taverns of the area, one which was sure to have rooms to spare and available immediately. Around them some equally rough patrons were making merry but with a tolerable raucousness. Lawrence was still able to think to himself how his ten coins might buy him some new and unexpected commodity.

"Why did that tramp take my money? If it was just a simple trick of confidence he would not have taken the trouble to put his name to a contract. He might have just stolen the furs from my cart. And the coins are being devalued so I could not make a profit for him to take his share of. It's almost as if this were some sort of insult to my person."

"Have you made such enemies? Whosoever interferes with you does also with me."

Horo had ale in hand and appeared quite gleeful. Lawrence was becoming increasingly frustrated at his obvious lapse in insight. He looked at her and could see her as the nexus of a strange turmoil which had captured him as a sailor in a whirlpool and made him loose his senses to ends which were perhaps truly both blessing and curse.

"In the northlands there are many dense forests and jagged cliffs to be found all around. Our prey can hide if we look for it on its own climb. We must go higher above to see all of what moves in the valley. What if the boy was not acting alone?"

Lawrence's eyes went wide. It was obvious. The Spanish would try to keep their currency from plummeting in value when they reduced its silver, and so they would try to get whoever was ignorant enough to buy up the new coins so as to inflate them. Someone must have told Zenobe to make this offer to the local merchants, and in no other place than Liege. He stood from the table in a start, this was the advantage he sought made clear before him. The other esteemed patrons looked for a moment in case he should draw steel but soon went back to their business. Lawrence nearly recoiled at the revelation of his own business. What had once been a scheme of currency speculation, a low enough deed, would now become no less than blackmail to the king of Spain. And up above them, and far above the smokey rooftops Mars gleamed bright and high in the night.


	9. IX

**IX.**

It had taken a mighty persuasion on the part of both he and Horo, so much that Lawrence quite feared that she would bear her teeth and merely shock the hapless merchant into following, as was the predator's way. But she restrained herself, and at last the sad, haggard Dutchman submitted and allowed himself to be dragged along to the tavern behind them. Lawrence knew that the offer of drink would bring him in eventually, for he knew (as he had wrought it) what a wretched day he had endured. Such irony it was that a group of men who had both tricked and been tricked all by one another's schemes would all gather into a single tavern to sit around one table and drown their sorrows together. He was almost giddy in fact, by some sentiment that must have been loaned from Horo, or perhaps Satan. Together, with the buyer whose name was Ernst, they went to meet with Zenobe at the less-than-reputable tavern in which Lawrence had had his epiphany the night before. He could practically feel from the heat of Horo's hand in his how she was straining to prevent her tail from wagging merrily as they made their way through the less-than-reputable crowds who were out at such an hour to work their way through every deadly sin as some do pray the rosary. Indeed to drink themselves into heedlessness was the agenda for their night, so that Zenobe would disgorge all he knew of whom had assigned him to his task of swindling ignorant peddlers.

At the taverns there were considerable commotion as mercenaries and rogues of various kinds and even a few students from the university had gathered and imposed their wild ribaldry. Lawrence was becoming fearful that their chances of proceeding in peace were none. They might be robbed or pulled into a brawl by these rowdies, or worse yet some fool might pull off Horo's hood and unmask her for all to see. But then again drunks were drunks, and it would likely be easy to escape and be afterword passed of as some strange dream or hallucination. His nerves would remain uneasy despite the drink, and despite that this was far from the greatest risk he had taken as of late. Zenobe was nervous too, for he hardly seemed to stop to draw breath.

"Ah this certainly is a most lively part of town you would pick to celebrate our partnership, monsieur. Perhaps a little too lively for those who hope to still be alive by season's end, no?"

"Oh don't be so modest mijn goede heren, aren't you both so well acquainted with this side of town? You certainly wear the native livery! Such fascinating examples of the merchant's art, and the troubadour's to be learned here, from men so well-traveled, yes? I hear that a man might even find a wife on these streets if he prowls them eagerly enough."

Lawrence grimaced, but could not rightly be angry, and he could see Horo had another of her wicked grins emerging on her face though she would stay herself. Ernst was quite surly to them, and he could not be blamed for it; and aside from that, Lawrence did truly know these streets though he didn't care to remember them. He could only hope that bearing such barbs would reconcile him with the man and his masters, and if not that then at least he would know who had taken his money.

"Don't be so foul-spirited, monsieur. Our friend Lawrence is treating us tonight, and you certainly sound as if you could use a tankard or two, no? Besides in these days we all place our bets with death and misfortune everywhere we go, not merely when in the company of vagabonds."

"Don't mind our friend, he has had a trying day and has agreed to favor us with his presence. I told you he is my connection to the Flemish trading firm in town, and I'm sure he can help us both greatly to establish ourselves."

"Ah but of course, I'm sure he'll come to appreciate our company after he's had some 'inspiration', and monsieur, surely you will see the irresistible charm of my dear friend's wife, Diana. She is a shining jewel who must be hidden under a hood from covetous eyes, as I am sure you will see."

Zenobe gayly clapped his hand on Ernst which only made him flinch and sigh.

"Perhaps she is a devil whose horns lay hidden 'neath it."

Lawrence could say with confidence that they were both right. At the tavern's threshold was crowd and cacophony, as the patrons were in the middle of a rousing, foot-stomping rendition of "In Taberna Quando Sumus", which they had to struggle past and squeeze their way to a battered and somewhat secluded bench where they could have their intimate exchange. The drink was quickly obtained, not beer or wine, but a strong liqueur (made from apples of course) that was to be rapidly refilled as needed for Zenobe while the others abstained. Lawrence had chosen this particular establishment because such quantities could be obtained at relatively little expense in coin.

The party drank eagerly as the riot continued behind them, the noise was deafening, but they could still shout at each other and be understood (and ignored by others). They drank through three rounds, laughing and making stupid jokes, even Ernst's mood was beginning to lighten after he'd shouted his share of "Devil take me!"'s and "Puta madre!"'s (that he'd picked up from the Spanish sailors). They loosened their respective grips upon themselves and their lives, and began to talk.

"To our recent agreement, may we both become rich enough to never have to walk these streets again!"

"I'll drink to that!"

"Proost."

"I tell you, Zenobe, I'll buy you a cart and mule of your own when my fortune comes through, perhaps even give you some starting capital so that you can experience the comfort that I have in my years of travel. And surely you will find a wife, just as I have, when you visit the many villages of the countryside. Why there are many fair maidens there that will all but throw themselves upon a fine lad such as yourself, I can attest."

Horo stepped on his foot, but fortunately Lawrence was already numb enough from the alcohol that he only winced, and drank some more.

"Oh, dear Lawrence, you flatter me overmuch. I'm glad that you have invested so much in my knowledge, but discretion is always a merchant's best friend, isn't it? ...Just how much was it, monsieur?"

"Oh, do not think of it, friend. I know enough to manage my own affairs with discretion. And as our friend Ernst here can tell us, the Spanish have plenty of silver, and that theirs is a coin worth trading in. The Flemish above all know that their victory is predestined by God, isn't that right, sir?"

"Oh, most certainly. The heretic dogs in the north will be defeated by Spain's power in time. They shall pay for what they have done to us."

They drank, and drank again. Lawrence was feeling more than a tad tipsy, but still remembered what he had to do. He must keep his focus and press Zenobe. Horo was silent, as typical, and in the back of his mind he knew she was due to shed her sheep's clothing and pull the wool over everyone's eyes again.

"Oh how I would love to stand at the sidelines and watch a glorious, and honorable battle. They say chivalry is dead now that the mercenaries are so common, but that cannot be so, can it? You look as though you are a brave man, monsieur Zenobe."

"What-what is it that you mean, my dear?"

Zenobe was laughing, and seemed to quake a little.

"It's just that men who fight have always had a certain... air to them. You can tell one anywhere just by the way he walks or looks, or which words he uses. For it is mortal fear that hangs over them, shadowing everything they do. Having kept one's life only by a hair's breadth will do this to a man, no matter how strong or brave he might be. Having killed others stains one not merely with fear for the body but fear for the soul, that those others might return to claim retribution at some time forthcoming. I could see from the moment we met that you were one such man. You smell of gunpowder, monsieur."

All eyes looked at him. Lawrence chose this time to chime in.

"My what a shame would it be if it did not come to pass, that our solemn contract would come to nothing but wasted time and money. Friends are so hard to find in these times."

Zenobe gave out one last little chuckle that faded away to pregnant silence. Suddenly, as if seized, he put his head in his hands and began to shake and ramble something that could not be understood. He grabbed his tankard and downed the rest of the bouse in one gulp. He set it down and seemed to look at them with open eyes for the first time.

"What do you know of it! Eh!"

He shook his head, and seemed to collapse, weeping.

"Who told you? Who could've told you? …I was going to start over, put it all behind me... Were you there, Lawrence! Were you there at Ostend too! Is that where you saw me!"

Zenobe jumped right up and seized Lawrence by the collar with a the fury of a madman in his eyes, but just as quickly as it came, the passion melted away again and his eyes teared up like a baby's.

"No, I wasn't in the army."

"Oh. You couldn't know then. How did it happen?"

Zenobe loosened, then lost his grip on Lawrence, and collapsed. He was sprawled across the table, crying, speaking only between heaving sobs as the oblivious party raged around them, though the air seemed to grow strangely quiet.

"I was there, there in the trenches. You can't understand how it was, none of you could. No one! Had to get away; I ran away one night. I didn't care anymore. But they caught me, they were going to shoot me. But I started talking, and the captain smiled and picked me up, said he could find a use for me. They sent me back and told me to start talking to merchants so they would buy coins."

"Who was it that told you?"

If it wasn't for the liqueur in him, Lawrence would have been speechless.

"It was a cardinal. Cardinal Alvarez made the plans and had them carry it out."

Zenobe was starting to regain some of his composure, sinking back into his seat from the harsh wood of the table, which must have left some splinters in him. He seemed dazed and talked as if the words were falling out of his mouth haphazardly.

"It was this Cardinal Alvarez who put you up to this, getting simple merchants to buy up coins to raise their value?"

Ernst hardly seemed to care a whit about the whole display. Zenobe ignored him and looked to Lawrence.

"You have been the closest thing to a friend I've had, monsieur, since I was a boy. I just did what I had to survive. Please bear me no grudge for it, can you?"

Lawrence could hardly refrain from breaking down himself, looking at the man's tear-streaked face. He looked at him with a kind of bottomless innocence, as if his sins had all been absolved by confession and ablution.

"I just wanted to know who is behind it, Zenobe, that is all. Please, go in peace. I have no hatred for you."

"Oh thank you, monsieur!"

Zenobe clasped his hands, the joy of life in his face.

"I swear I never wanted to do it, none of it. But they forced me, and they watch me during the day. But not any more! I will leave here for good, to France or maybe Germany. I'm supposed to meet with the men from the palace tomorrow to hand over my contracts, but I will give them to you and monsieur Ernst instead. I'm sure that's why you brought him here, isn't it?"

Lawrence silently nodded. He had become quite sober, he noticed, never having imagined that the night's revelry could lead to this.

"Heer, how many others are working for the cardinal in this way, can you guess?"

"I haven't any idea. They make sure to keep it a secret."

"I see, this is a most interesting and valuable piece of news."

Having gotten all of what it was they desired from the night, the four quickly stood and made their way back out into the nighttime streets. Most of those who were once as merry as kings two hours earlier were now passed out in puddles of various effluents, and a few unfortunates laid down to never rise again. Zenobe was much quieter than usual, and appeared pale and spent, though he had a certain peace and calm about him. He quickly left, bidding his last goodbyes to Lawrence and Horo, promising to see them again after they had both made their (honest) fortunes, though Lawrence doubted there was any real chance. He truly did wish him the best.

"Will he be able to get away?"

Horo seemed to show the same sentiment, which was rather odd for her. He had never asked her what her thoughts were on other men, or men as a whole even. He was in no hurry to find out.

"He might be captured by the Spanish if they find out, or he might get caught by bandits. But I reckon he can probably talk his way out of anything."

Horo giggled.

"Who cares what happens to that useless derelict. Let's get out of here before we're caught by bandits. Or can your wife turn them into weepy geldings too?"

Horo smiled, they both knew she could do far more than that. The three of them continued on out and finally parted ways as well. Lawrence kept the contracts and Ernst agreed to meet them the next day to see his overseer at the company's office. He had not been dismissed, but only demoted and harshly reprimanded.

His mind battered and his senses frayed, Lawrence returned to their little room and sat negligently on a rickety stool that had been stuck in a corner for some forgotten purpose with his chin in his hand. He knew he would not be able to sleep with so many new realities and possibilities dancing fitfully through his head. Horo just sat and watched him from atop her bed with flushed cheeks. She had somehow acquired a mug of ale which she was sipping, despite all the drink from before. Lawrence already knew he was in for a pounding headache the next day, and he didn't dare think of what her temperament might be. She appeared so quiet and serene now, though, her exposed tail lazily wagging to and fro. He did not take the time to enjoy the moment, however, as he was too abuzz with thought.

"Why didn't you tell me Zenobe had been a soldier?"

"I didn't know he was. I just knew he had fought for his life before. Maybe he'd been a robber or gotten in a brawl. You should've known he was a shady character to begin with."

"Of course I did, but he might have been telling the truth all the same."

"Hmm, oh of course."

Horo drawled. She obviously didn't believe him, and had a hard time being subtle about it, or anything else for that matter.

"He truly was just a child in the end, though... So just what vast fortunes will they shower on us for the name of this cardinal?"

"We have all these contracts too, almost two dozen, all with the names of local merchants, some of them fairly well off"

Lawrence paged through them for the tenth time.

"We'll go to the company and they shall let the Spanish know that they have proof of their scheme. The Spanish will pay to shut them up and we'll get a percentage... Honestly, I don't know how much that will be, but it should be significant."

Lawrence balanced ever more precariously on the badly strained stool with his back resting on the wall.

"And what will you do with this significant money?"

Lawrence had thought of it a little, but only so since it was a far from done deal. Only fools counted their eggs.

"I suppose if I can I will buy my own storefront and settle down to become a proper merchant. I'd say I've done more than my share of hawking to-"

Before he could finish the one leg of the stool on which he balanced broke, dropping him straight down to the floor with a thump. Without a second's delay Horo burst out laughing.

"You buffoon! Is taking a fall the only way you will learn anything?"

"...Argh, maybe it is."

Lawrence wearily arose, rubbing his bruised head. He half collapsed onto his own bed as Horo was still giggling at him. Though as he looked she seemed to be staring off away from him into some unperceived distance.

"You were just like him, that was just the thing he used to do."

"Who?"

For an instant Lawrence was struck with burning jealousy for the first time since he was but a whelp. It was almost frightening, but he did wonder what other humans Horo might have known in the past. It was the first time she had spoken of such things.

"In the village there lived a boy whose name I can't remember, but who was always called 'Simplicius' because he was so dumb. They said he couldn't be taught anything, for he would pay no mind at all to anyone's words to him, and his attention was as wayward as the wind. The priest in the town loved him, despite his ignorance, as he was too simple and pure-hearted to do any real sin. At some span long ago I was wandering through the wilderness when I found that village in the midst of a drought. I had long been in such state, without any home, and it had been a long time since I had seen any humans. I was curious, and emerged from the trees there, appearing as I truly am. The townspeople saw me, but were so diminished from hunger that they were too weak to take up arms or even to run away. They just sat there, transfixed and terrified, looking on with their mouths agape. But when Simplicius saw me he got up and walked forward, straight out across the fields to where I was without even a hint of fear in his eyes. When he was close he bowed and asked me forthright if I could make the drought go away and the grain grow again. I was dumbstruck. Never before had I seen a human so bold. He did not beg or plead to me, avert his eyes and quake with fear as others had before, but spoke to me plainly and directly without pretense, as if I were something on the same rank as he. So incredibly foolish was he. So very foolish was I. I was filled with... loneliness. I saw him there before me, seeming so familiar, and thought that humans might be what I searched for, might grant me what I had lost so long ago. I made myself into the shape you see now for the first time, and grasped his hand. I agreed to help the village with its crops."

Lawrence listened with naught but rapt attention. Horo swished the nearly empty tankard around in her hand absently. The look upon her face was something of such primal sadness and yearning that it seemed too much for his addled mind to take in at once. It seemed to be telling her story all on its own, of loss, bereavement, emptiness, and vain hopes arisen, and dashed. He suddenly had the feeling that he had seen that same face once before, but he could not clearly recall the time nor place.

"To think I so discarded my pride as a wolf and became subservient to humans. Perhaps my ancestors have cursed me for this. I travel now among your kind, pretending I am one of you, trying to ingratiate myself into your lives. But I always knew that there is no way that I can fit into such a place, for you have no place to give me. No matter what I may wish, I am not one of you and cannot be such. I'm sorry to have burdened you so, Lawrence, with my foolish desires. I hope that with this money you may settle down and live a happy life. I promise I will leave for good then, back to the north, and not endanger you any further."

He knew she was right. There was no question that she and he were not of one kind, and were foolish to think otherwise. She sat there with her head high, looking at him straight on with a mask of composure and pride, her red eyes gleaming, from a place and time far from his own. But he hardly needed an instant before he got up and sat down next to her, just as those inscrutable eyes began to dull with tears. They were both quite affected by the night's drink, he realized, but it was still a time when he could do and say what was most important. She clutched his arm and grasped the fabric of his shirt as her head went low and she began sobbing quietly. He pulled her close against him and began to gently stroke her auburn head. He knew not yet what he might say, for 'twas such a moment in which his body acted far more quickly than his mind. But Horo began first.

"I don't want to be alone anymore! I can't bear it. It's been so long since I've seen my siblings, my mother. I have found no others of my kind since I left them... My mother said we must find trails of our own, because there were too many humans settling in our home lands. Such is our way. I did not want to leave our home, but I was not allowed to stay... Our lives are many times beyond your seasons, and so many seasons have passed since then. I wish to return home, no matter the consequence. Surely my other kin hath felt as I do, and are there waiting... Do you know what it's like to be alone in the world? To wake up from dreams of the past in strange surroundings without your family there, without anyone there to comfort you?"

Horo looked up at him, eyes wide and wet, with indescribable anguish upon her face, but just as quickly returned her head to the front of his shirt. She gripped him ever more tightly. He could hear shame in her voice.

"I suppose a human couldn't know how I feel. I have asked far too much of thee already."

"Perhaps I can't, but I do know what it's like to wander the world without home or family. We can't really be so different in that respect, can we?"

The words flowed from his mouth without prompt or intention.

"...Of all the humans I might have met, I am grateful it was you. Thou who wanders the land alone, who is yet kind enough, a fool enough, to take even I for a friend."

Horo's sobbing quieted, though she did not move nor raise her head.

"But you must know that at all times and in all shapes, I hath been a danger to man. Though you would be my friend, I am a curse upon thee."

"I know there is danger before me, and still I will not leave you."

She seemed to slide down further, defeated, or exhausted, or exasperated.

"Why? Why will you not? Are you really as much an idiot as Simplicius? Do you not understand that I am a wolf, not a human?"

"I know that you and I are not the same. I could never forget it for long. But still, I am glad you're with me. I will stay with you until you find your way home. That's the promise I made."

Lawrence couldn't help but smile at himself, for he did feel like an idiot, pitifully trying to give reason to something that was well beyond reason.

"A fool like you would never save up enough to buy his own store anyway."

Her hands slowly loosened from their pained grip upon his shirt, and wrapped around his waist. Her silken hair cascaded about her back in numerous tangled strands, reflecting the weak and flickering light of the candle which was the only one in the room. She looked so small and fragile, lying prostrate at his waist. The hair of her head mingled with the fur of her tail, which was the same color. Lawrence was suddenly reminded of that time years ago when wolves had nearly killed him in the woods, their sleek bodies thrashing through pools of moonlight in the brief seconds that he turned his head to see from whence he ran. Even as a sickness began to grip his gut, his hands gripped her firmly. He knew she was smiling. As if sensing his sudden unease, she arose. Her tear-streaked face indeed smiled at him. Mocking, laughing as she always had, but also he could see that she truly was happy that he was there. Beyond all his fears, he hoped that he had given her what it was she so missed, that she would remain so happy to be with him.

"It's time we slept."

Horo drifted gently backwards onto the straw bed, her eyes closing in an instant. Gently she laid down into a contented slumber. Lawrence did his best to tuck her into the sheets, though he was quite tired himself. In some unremembered moments, he too collapsed into his own bed, his faculties falling away from him. He turned his head to look upon her for a moment before he too fell into the sleep of a stone.

_Author's Note: Zenobe fought at the Siege of Ostend (1601-1604), one of the longest sieges in recorded history and one so horrendously bloody that it led to a ceasefire between Spain and the United Provinces during which this story takes place._

_And now a very special message from Lawrence and Horo._

Inside a warm, homely tavern a fire crackles hot as the harrowing winds and bitter chill of the winter months stir and groan restlessly outside. The guests are few, but merry and agreeable, and thoroughly awash with Yuletide cheer. Among them, Lawrence and Horo sit at a small table, enjoying a delectable seasonal ale flavored with spices.

"Ah, greetings, friends! We hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season wherever you are, and whatever your customs may be. We'd like to take this time out from our story to talk to you directly because of a particular trend we've noticed. Many readers of our story seem to be underaged, of this story which features a considerable amount of enthusiastic consumption of alcohol, both by the characters and author, and we're here now to give a frank and hopefully enlightening talk about the nature and consequences of intoxication. We might make it seem here as though drinking is a fun and relaxing activity which almost everyone engages in-"

"And it most certainly 'tis!"

Horo cheerfully sloshes her tankard, a flush clearly visible upon her cheeks.

"Why as soon as you humans could figure out how to get drunk you were doing it as often as you could. With few interruptions, drinking has been a favorite activity for nearly every culture around the world and throughout the history of civilization, especially here in Europe. Why almost anyone who is considered 'great' or set upon some high pedestal in the so-called 'Western World' is liable to have drank more than his or her fair share, or even lived a life more pickled than otherwise. Why some people find that they cannot be truly cheerful or thoughtful or calmed without mug or dainty glass. Drinking can open up a whole new range of perceptions which you may find enjoyable, or satisfying, or inspiring-"

"Yes, yes, yes that's true, but the point is that younger, less experienced people need to be very careful with alcohol, because they know not what they might become accountable for if they indulge in your favorite pursuit, such as wrapping twice around a lamppost."

"Mind the fourth wall, Lawrence. But yes, as history will always teach us, one must always favor no excess. The great giddiness of inebriation can only yield great heedlessness, and all shall be accounted for with interest in the morning after. Take care to keep your wits with you, should you choose to drink at all, and never to surrender yourself to the fleeting fancies at the bottom of your goblets."

"And if there's one person who could write the volume on heedlessness, it is truly Horo here! Why when she has had more than her means, which I reckon to be a full barrel at least, she appears to undergo a frightful transformation, reverting back to her primitive wolfish nature. I've had the terrifying fortune of witnessing her stripping bare and going about on all fours, growling like a feral beast, sniffing at things and marking her terri-YEEEEEEEARGH!"

Lawrence collapses out of sight with a clunk as Horo remains seated, serenely smiling.

"Slander and lies, all. We thank you for your time, gentle readers. Be responsible in your merrymaking, and _io, bona Saturnalia! _"


	10. X

_Yeah, I've been bad. Between moves, music festivals, and the usual laziness, it's been rough, but for the time spent, I have the longest chapter yet._

**X.**

The next thing Lawrence knew was the pure whiteness of the dawning day blaring through their tattered excuse of a curtain like God's own righteous displeasure at the excesses of the night before. Indeed in many towns across Europe at the same time were many wretched penitents hiding from the dawn's divine judgment, meagerly shielding themselves with blankets, stricken with that curse which made them as vampires. But Lawrence, despite his aching head, crusty eyes, and mouth which had the texture and taste of dry sharkskin, was upright and making use of whatever senses he could summon. Had it all been a dream? Had those intimate moments been real? He couldn't bear the notion, nor could he bear the notion of its negation. He needed a drink, the "hair of the wolf", he supposed. He cradled his jumbled and inadequate head in his hands for a minute before he remembered that he had a meeting to attend to. From the looks of it, he might already be late. He could not remember when this meeting was supposed to take place. He wondered if Ernst had either. Had he even made it at all, or had he just gotten a laugh from their whole performance and not said a word of it to his master? He pulled himself forward and began to look about the room in confusion and impotent frustration, as he had little energy by which to get up. He would take no chance, at least none not already taken. Suddenly, he saw that Horo too had arisen in her own bed next to his. She was as pale as a ghost and did not seem one bit well, giving him a piteous look. So pale indeed that it reminded him of the time when he had first seen her naked form before the coming dawn, and there had decided to take her with him. So strange and jarring the vicissitude, but it yet seemed to inspire the very same sentiment through different lenses. He just said her name once with concern. He had the impulse to go and sit at her side, but his leaden body would not entertain the notion for a moment. In his overtaxed mind, the overwhelming and immediate anxiety which was the possibility of a failed business venture was beginning to sweep him up. Without another second he was afoot and going to fill the washbasin. There was no time to spare.

"Just stay there and rest. I have to see this noble about the contracts. We'll really have something to celebrate once that's done."

"I will go with you."

She dragged her legs over the bedside, but hesitated, seeming to lose her balance. Lawrence continued changing his clothes and washing what places he could.

"It will be fine, rest in bed until you're feeling better. I was able to make business agreements before I met thee. Would you wish me to forget how?"

His head now severely aching, he prepared to depart. He would try to give her one last reassuring smile, but when he turned he saw that she was standing right behind him. She was dressed and looked determined. If what he thought she had said the last night was true, it would be more for her own benefit than his that she go. With a full army of anxieties beginning to descend upon his thoughts, he decided he would not add an argument with her to its rank.

By some spell, miracle, or whim of Fortune, they arrived, and were indeed admitted to see Lord Marten van Heit. From what Lawrence had learned from his friends and contacts over the years, this van Heit was the overseer appointed by his family over their holdings in Liege. They were of course based in Antwerp, remaining in the war-stricken city and staunchly in support of Catholicism and the king even after the Revolt had driven much of the its best and most profitable resources into the north. He was quite young, the family's youngest son, and so he had almost no chance of gaining any control over their business, or advancing beyond his limited station. But rather than becoming idle and prone to every manner of vice and degeneration of character, as men in that position often do, he was supposedly quite sensible and responsible, and even rather sly. Lawrence was rather worried about that last feature, but with Horo at his side, he found he was growing to fear very little in other men. This in itself could be quite worrying, but he forced himself to consider only what was at hand.

His office was amazingly spacious and spared no expense in its adornment. Lawrence felt all but naked standing at its threshold, so empty and vast the tiled floor between himself and Master van Heit, who sat at his great wooden desk, his head resting in manicured hands. His appearance was flawless, looking to be no older than Lawrence. His straw-blonde hair cut just below the ear and straight as the strings of a lyre, and his neatly trimmed goatee was current with the fashion in France. His clothing was expensive but not ostentatious, he wore a blue linen shirt with a white down-turned collar with frilly lace, all bright and spotlessly clean. It thoroughly put Lawrence to shame with his scruffy brown mop and brown weather-worn jerkin with hastily patched-up doublet. Although he realized that the entire scene before him was carefully planned out and maintained precisely to make men of lesser standing, such as himself, feel distant and small. It was hard not to be intimidated by the untouchable perfection of the man behind the ornately carved desk and the great space which was his domain. He might has well been Zeus peering down at him from Olympus. That desk did appear to be quite a spectacle in itself, as Lawrence could see the carving on its front depicted sinners being pulled by demons down into Hell. Though he knew what _mise-en-scène_ to expect, he had heard nothing of what van Heit's religious leanings actually were, and that did worry him. The detail of the carving reminded him of what he had heard of the terrible invocations made by one of his countrymen called Jerome van Acken* who had served at the court of a Spanish king. The couple bowed as the lord stood from his desk and walked briskly to the doorway.

"It is an honor, my lord. I am Lawrence d'Baelen, and this is my wife, Diana."

"Greetings, dear sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My lady."

His French was awkward and halting, as stiff as his movements. Lawrence felt suddenly panicked that he had no gifts to present to this greater man, as he would no doubt expect, but there was surely nothing he did or could possess that might be suitable, save for the contracts.

"So you have come to tell of this case of subterfuge by the Spanish cardinal, yes?"

"Yes my lord, here are the contracts which show the names of all the merchants who agreed to buy the new Spanish coins, including my own."

The lord cordially took the papers from him, quickly shuffling through them.

"I see. I believe we have sufficient proof that what you say is true. We have heard it said that his eminence, the Cardinal Alvarez, is quite keen on proving his worthiness to his majesty so as to gain more honor and praise in court. But of course to be in such a position and keep it is a manifold struggle regardless of intentions. But before we speak any further of this business, there is something I wished to ask you, sir."

Marten retreated to his desk and sat at its edge, looking at him quizzically with cocked head.

"I heard of what occurred yesterday down at the warehouse, the sale made by you to my man, Ernst. Do you recall this?"

"I do, my lord. It was quite merciful of you to let him keep his job, and even more so for you to allow me here."

"Think nothing of it. Ernst is an honest man who was made quite ashamed by the derision of his peers for his poor judgment, and likely will be for many days to come. I consider that punishment enough. I personally instruct many of the men who work for me on how to identify the tricks and deceptions often used by wandering hawkers. It was just such a thing that you employed. To be brief, he should have known better. But you on the other hand..."

Marten stood and circled around towards the front.

"I agreed to meet you here because I am honestly baffled. There are no shortage of petty hucksters on these streets, but never have I seen one return to reap the fruits of his labor, so to speak. "The deceiver is always at the mercy of the deceived", they say, but I never thought anyone would take it so literally! You have slapped me with one hand and now come to offer a gift in another. Why are you here right now, monsieur Lawrence? Why do you wish to do business with me?"

Lawrence began to sweat, though van Heit sounded more curious than anything else. In the rush of his foolhardy gambit he had given very little consideration into making his actions, and her actions, convincing. He had thought of only means and ends, not people. But before he could say anything, Marten interjected.

"Is she well?"

He had taken notice of Horo for the first time. Looking down, Lawrence saw that she was slouched. Lawrence rattled off automatically.

"We had a rather trying night last, please forgive us, your excellency."

"Oh no, it is you who must forgive me for so totally forgetting my manners. Please to have a seat both of you, I will have refreshment brought in immediately. If there is anything I can do at all for my lady, please do but ask."

"Water. I would like some water."

"Of course, it will be just a moment. Do pardon me."

Marten bowed deeply and jumped out into the hall to bark some commands in Dutch. Lawrence turned to her as they sat down in the small chairs against the back wall.

"Are you going to be alright? We can go back if you want."

"I will be fine, really. What's more important now is how you will explain yourself."

She looked to him with her face just as pale as before, but with those garnet eyes alight with unknown fire. He sighed with consternation and turned away. He had no answer because there was none. If he pleaded and made a show of having learned his lesson about being cheated he might just buy it. But he might just as well take the contracts and have them both thrown in jail too. But if he tried to downplay their actions, it would just make him seem all the more profligate.

"Just tell him the truth."

"What?"

It was all he could do to keep his voice a whisper.

"It was I who cheated, not you. You knew nothing about it."

"It doesn't matter, I can't just put the blame off on my wife. No one would accept that as excuse. I might as well blame my own left arm."

She did not react, but only turned away again. He knew she was sulking, and not just from the hangover.

"I apologize for the delay. Please forgive my insensitivity, madame. Is there anything else I could do?"

Van Heit appeared again with a tankard of water.

"No, I shall be fine, sir. Thank you."

"Monsieur d'Baelen, I understand that you would wish to attend to your wife. I can see you another time without-"

"No, there is no need."

Horo suddenly stood, having finished the water in some unseen moment, and set the tankard aside.

"My dear, I believe our facade must have crumbled under the weight of our gracious host's keen intelligence. Honored sir, it is certainly most strange that we would come back and meet with you after so defaming your good business. We have been far from kind to both you and dear monsieur Ernst, and for that you shall receive compensation. We shall pay back to you the money that was not owed us for the furs. We place ourselves at your mercy, lord"

Lawrence was standing now too, more out of shock than obedience to Horo's new and sudden course. She curtsied deeply.

"Well, that is most considerate of you. I am glad to see that madame is so invigorated now."

Marten looked back and forth between the two of them with obvious trepidation.

"Truly a man's highest qualities spring from the lowest deeds, would you not say? What more complete picture of a man might there be than that upon the faces of those who serve him? A kind, just and prudent man is always surrounded by those who are likewise kind and honest, but a man who is cruel, corrupt, and decadent is surrounded by faces filled with fear and duplicity."

"I'm afraid I do not understand."

"What my wife means to say is that we were testing you, my lord." Lawrence was standing at her side. He was not sure himself if he had taken her lead, but somehow his words had seemed inevitable, as if something else had stirred them down beneath his mind.

"How so? When?"

"My husband tells me you are known as a just and honorable man, but there are few ways to know as much for sure until a test is given."

"When we saw how you treated a man who had faltered in his duties to you, we could be sure you were of good character, and someone with whom we would want to engage in such an important venture as this. I must apologize for the deceptions, but surely my lord would know the value of such things."

"Quite."

The great room seemed to have become very small, with Horo and he standing together just a few feet from Marten, who seemed rather taken aback, propping himself on the edge of his desk.

"Well, that is a most novel way of judging a man's character you have. I was going to ask how it was you were able to find out the truth of such a lofty affair, let alone have the gall to pursue it. But I see that the two of you must be full of all manner of cunning, with 'mind teeming' as the old poem goes. I wonder; perhaps you feel you can trust me, but can I trust thee?"

He was looking more bemused by the second.

"Would we show what we have to one we did not think worthy to see? We take a great risk even letting you know what we possess. And surely your lordship would not be complacent watching some Spanish cardinal shamelessly exploit your hard-working countrymen? Or at least, not without due recourse."

Horo's eyes gleamed.

"Well, such a thing would have to be handled very delicately. My family is on friendly terms with Spain as I'm sure you're aware, and public disloyalty would not yield happy results for anyone involved. We would have to blackmail them anonymously. Probably through a go-between of some kind. A cardinal can be a very dangerous enemy indeed, but his kingdom as a whole would lose considerable face among the merchant class here if it was revealed what he was doing. And as to the scheme itself..."

Marten spoke with his head turned away and seemed to have become engrossed in thought.

"It is stupid, on the face of it. He encourages poor peddlers who don't know any better to buy coins that are diminishing in value. As soon as all the merchants catch on, they'll try to sell off the coins as quickly as they can. But perhaps... Ah, of course, he must be planning to buy up all of these coins as they flood the market. The price would jump, if only for a short time."

Lost in his reverie, Marten began to pace the room in a circle.

"He even has a list of names of all the men who will be selling them so it wouldn't be very hard. It would be risky, very risky, too many unknowns. But this is Spanish currency after all, so they might not have anything left to lose."

He stopped suddenly and turned to them.

"It may not have to be a matter of blackmail. If we are swift enough we may beat them at their own game."

"I'm not sure I follow you, lord."

"I apologize for not speaking in terms a layman would understand. What I mean is that the Spanish are expecting to buy up a very large amount of their own currency at a very low price in the hopes of increasing its value, and likewise selling it back to make a profit, or else holding it so that its value will stabilize. They have kept their plans a secret, and thus will not expect any other party to compete with them in this endeavor. Indeed any competition would prove quite a disaster. If some other informed agent were to also buy these coins, quickly and at higher price from all those selling it, he could take all the profit for himself. We have all the knowledge necessary here to compete with them, to displace them so surely that we can claim their prize before they even know the better."

Comprehension was just beginning to dawn on Lawrence while Marten was already an inference ahead. He could expect as much, and in truth, it was the reason he was there.

"You plan to act on this knowledge, my lord?"

"Please call me Marten, there's no reason for formality between us. We are both but men in search of profit, no?"

His smile looked genuine, but he still had a hard time being convinced.

"But as to this vindictive little venture, I shall give it serious thought. I suppose one as keen as you would know that my home, Antwerpen, is a shell of its former self. It was gutted thirty years ago when the Spanish and their army of mercenaries destroyed it. It is far into decline, though none will admit such things. We are like a lesser tree that is dying in the shade of a larger. Imperial excesses, imperial wars, and the ever-expanding imperial debt have left us with no room to breathe. And now they will exploit even their own faithful subjects, those who should by all accounts have thrown off their miserable yoke long ago... Ah, do forgive me, I have spoken too freely."

He seemed to have let his thought run away with him, looking distant and speaking with a soft, even voice. But he immediately snapped back into form, putting on a phony, sheepish grin before returning to the corner of his desk, a spot which Lawrence noticed was clear of any clutter, as though he was in the habit of perching there.

"I suppose I must trust you since I have felt you so familiar as to speak such treasonous words in your presence. I said as much but I do not consider the king in Madrid my benefactor, though my father would have it so. In truth I have before now pondered how I might be able to do some harm against the Spanish without destroying my business and being disinherited. A petty desire, of course, but in this case, it could be only natural. Ah, but I have kept you here long enough, I'm sure you're both eager to be off. I propose that you keep the money from the furs as a finder's fee for these contracts. I must consult some associates before taking any action, but I do intend to go through with what I described. It will need to be carefully timed, I don't suppose your friend told you anything of when his master-? Ah, no matter. In any case I am willing to give you ten per cent of our earnings from this investment, whatever it may be."

The sky had gone to red as they walked leisurely home along the waterfront. An odd tranquility was about as they passed, though it was obviously a well-walked path they trod, the cobblestones worn down to a regular smoothness. Horo was still not well. She held onto him for support and was not talkative. It was times as this when she seemed so fragile and vulnerable that he couldn't help but think of all that she had brought to him, and how much he wanted her to stay. She had managed to convince everyone involved that the blind idiot risk that was the meeting that day was the door to a worthwhile venture and profitable partnership. Over and over again he found that he couldn't truly believe that she was real. That anything that had happened of late was real. Perhaps he was still asleep in his wagon neath the stars in that backward village, with visions of pagan rituals and the devouring loneliness of a young man with no roots churning a strange brew neath his lids. It was a wholly rational possibility, but one from which he fled without reservation. He could find solace, after all, in the moment.

"Why are you so happy? Is it because you will have enough money to buy a store now?"

"This is a long way from a done deal. He may change his mind and decide not to kick the hornet's nest."

"So all my cajoling was for naught, then?"

"..You're still feeling this ill, eh?"

Horo took that as a cue to stop and lose her balance for a moment as Lawrence grabbed hold of her waist to keep her steady. She returned to her place at his side, both arms around his without comment.

"We're almost at the inn, you need to rest now."

"I don't want... I don't want to be a burden to you anymore."

"You're the furthest thing from a burden I have ever had."

Lawrence was shocked from his pleasant reverie. He was forced to remember what she had said last night.

"...You don't realize the truth yet... But you shall."

It was growing dark, and Horo had been asleep since they arrived back in their squalid accommodation. He knew he should be sleeping too, for his head was aching and his thoughts were swimming in an indecisive malaise. But it was such a night that one could take no rest. What would he do if she left? Perhaps the far-fetched plot to buy the diminished coins would earn him a fortune. Perhaps it would earn him the gallows. Then there would be no one to come to his rescue, nor would their be anyone to with whom to drink and celebrate. Did she really mean what she said? He thought on this for a long time, but could not come to any conclusion save 'there is no way to know.' Just as his eyelids were finally winning their prolonged war of attrition, he heard her stirring and moaning softly from her bed. She suddenly sprung up, sitting straight, as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her eyes began wandering, confused and worried, until they fell on him, and they became for the slightest moment glad and at ease. Then a look of sadness overcame her. The one she wore more often than not in recent days.

"Are you alright? Did you have a bad dream?"

She turned her gaze from him and was reticent.

"It... It was just the same dream I always have. Of being the... being as I was before, in the wheat."

"It makes you sad to remember it?"

"You wouldn't understand... I... I don't want to remember it. It was nice, at times. Watching trees sprout from the hills and grow from saplings into giants. The sun, the stars, and the clouds danced together in circles over me, onward and endless. It could be beautiful sometimes. I don't know how many seasons passed like that. If I watched, it was like a whirlwind of colors and movement as all the trees and plants went from green to red to brown and bare and back again. And the villagers, all toiling over it, sweating, groaning, laughing, singing... and dying. I felt the wheat arise from the earth, grow, bear fruit, then die and return again. All things, all together, arose and again returned. I stopped perceiving the passage of time at some point. I know that I was there for a great age, but it was like a dream. I can't even tell the difference between the dreams and the memories anymore. I was there for so long and yet have nothing to show for it. I don't even know if anyone I knew is still alive... But I've already done enough crying over such things."

"You clearly haven't if you're still sad about it."

He was sitting next to her on the bed now. It was certainly true that he did not understand, and perhaps she would think him all the more a fool, but with her his boldness always seemed to show itself long before his doubts. She turned away from him, distant and inscrutable, but he thought he saw the faintest smile flash for an instant on her lip in the flickering light.

"You complain of my sulking but you're the one who's still sleepless at this hour. Get thee to bed. It does neither of us any good to dwell on such things."

She was right. He never would have gotten anywhere if he but dwelt constantly on that past, as had some others he knew. Such people inevitably made themselves miserable with sorrow and drink. Such might he have done too had it not been for all the opportunities of the moment. He smiled and patted her hand as she went back to her dreams, looking a little more content. He snuffed the nub of a candle and collapsed into his own bed, struck down by a fatigue that he did not realize was upon him.

He slept sound for a time which seemed like years though it couldn't have been more than an hour. Through his threadbare blanket he could see the moonlight shining bright through the holes in the rickety shutters of their window. A cool breeze made its way into the room and drifted gently over him, quenching the heat of his body and soothing his thoughts. Surely she wouldn't leave and be alone again. He imagined her tight in his arms, and went slowly and peacefully to sleep. He soon after found himself dreaming that something warm had come near to him, and a hot wind was tickling his face. Slowly and reluctantly his mind surfaced and he opened his eyes to see that Horo lay next to him. She was staring straight at him, her eyes as sharp as knives. Panic began to grip his chest. Had he unknowingly climbed into her bed in his sleep? He remembered his own bed was significantly more rickety than hers and sloped downward. He was still in it, so it was she who had come into his. Upon seeing his look, she smiled and moved herself closer. He could feel her warmth over his whole body, for she was nearly pressed against him. It was getting very warm. He thought not of her soul, her sadness and longing so recently bared to him, nor even of her porcelain skin or flowing mane of autumn honey. But with only base desire of flesh and a muddled fugue of thought to temper it, his arms slid around her waist and back and pulled her into him. He most certainly must be dreaming, after all. But what truly did it matter? Though at such a juncture a man of wit and composure would contemplate foremost the possible consequences of anything hence undertaken. The fruits born of a roll in a lousy bed with a trickster she-wolf being certainly far from common knowledge, even of the most veteran merchants of the world. Might she bear child or litter of cubs? Would they have the traits of their mother or father, and which from whom? Plato and Aristotle would surely have a fine time with such quandaries. Sagely discernment was far from him at the moment, however His lips met hers, but just then her finger came between them.

"Are you awake yet? There are five armed men coming up the stair towards the door. We have to escape through the window, now."

Both of them were thankfully still clothed. She pulled him out of bed by the arm and threw open the window shutters, nearly taking them off their hinges. He surely must be dreaming. The light of the full moon was almost blinding outside. She turned to him, and though groggy it seemed her eyes were glowing round and red. She was laughing.

"How bold art thou tonight, from me thou wouldst drink life's sweetest wine in full! Crave too must thee the sweetness of death's darker draught!"

They fell, he knew not how, out from the open window into the moonlight. He barely missed smashing his nose on the stones of the yard below as his legs bumbled and flailed.

"Leave the cart" she yelled as he was again pulled along down into some staggered block of shadow. As shock and abject fear began to give way to manic energy he started to run. Why were they being chased? Of what worth could they be to whom, alive or dead? Zenobe. He must have been caught and made to tell. But so soon? Perhaps he meant to betray them to begin with. He couldn't put it past him. But why, why kill the poor peddler and his wife? They found a niche in some nameless alley that was out of sight. Their pursuers bolted past, six in all. Horo breathed hard into his chest. He did too.

"Do you see now, what my company will bring you? If we stay together they'll surely find us."

"And they might find us anyway, what do you know?"

"I said check that damn alley you mook, they didn't vanish!"

The words echoed close and harsh off the walls around them. Steps grew close again. Running together the other way was still judged the better option.

"And thine hair... Thine hair is so beautiful! I'll not sleep sound in the earth until I have bought thee a comb for it."

"Idiot, what are you saying?"

"But you owe me a lot of money still, maybe I'll wait till you've paid some of it off first!"

There was so much he still had to say. So much they had yet to do. And yet this was the end, the frantic pursuit and inevitable reckoning by a world which they had scoffed at all too merrily. His debt to fortune had come due. He pulled her tight around a cascade of turns and through jerking steps into blind uncertainty. They ducked behind a hay cart as their audibly winded pursuers passed them by again. They lingered scant paces away in confusion and breathlessness. They would find them soon. She looked at him, a ghost-white specter with eyes of blood. Her head was uncovered. She had lost her scarf. They knelt in silence and looked at one another for an eternal moment. He was transfixed on her, holding her hand so tight that he might not have been able to let it go again.

"Lawrence, listen to me. That man, Marten, he and his men are near here. I can hear them laughing and drinking. It's their warehouse that lies just across the street. If you go to them, I'm sure they will guard you. But I..."

She looked away and was hesitant.

"It is time I left."

"What are you saying? Why will leaving now help me or you or anyone else? With your head uncovered you'll just make more trouble-"

"That I shall, and as I do you will run for safety."

"But it-"

"_No more! _I can stand it no more... I.._"_

She lowered her head and he knew the beginnings of tears were in her eyes. He thought for a second that perhaps he was having a nightmare of his own, and soon enough would wake and see her next to him again. He felt the harsh stones of the street burrow dully into his knees, and the sweat on his brow turning frigid cold in the night air. He could allow himself no such hope. He realized that she must feel the very same.

"I thank you. I am grateful for the time we have shared. You reminded me of what it is to be free. I haven't been so happy in so very long. But do not feign to understand me or to command me. Know me as I am, a great wolf of the north where the sun lingers. Where men cross paths with me always is there blood spilt. Go now in peace, thankful that it was mine own and not yours."

With peace upon her face, she stood and ran out into the street before he could say another word. She slowed and stood before the brigands, probably offering them the sight of their undoubtedly brief lives. The went to to take her but were soon repulsed. Scared and disbelieving, they at turns were compelled forward and shocked aback, muttering to each other fearfully as Horo growled at them with monstrous aspect, teeth bared and ears flat against her head. She stood her ground. It was a full minute before they realized that Lawrence was banging relentlessly on the door of the warehouse just across from them.

"Git er... it out of sight you worthless bastards, we've gotta get him too!"

Horo was reluctantly led away with a sack over her head as some visibly shaken ruffians were waved towards him. He didn't dare look back as their clubs were brought to bear on his head. But just before coming down, the door finally opened. Looking up from his grimacing stoop, he saw a very large man in an apron flanked by several other onlookers with torches and tankards.

"What is going on out here, eh?"

"None of your damned business you ugly whorespawn geuzen, go back inside!"

He took a moment to quizzically examine the situation, but knew immediately what to do when he heard the knave's greeting.

"You dirty fucking gutter rats think you can insult me on my lord's property? I'll put those sticks so far up your ass you'll sneeze splinters!"

"Is there gonna be a fight out there? Hold on, dammit, let me get my pistols on!"

Voices grew loud and numerous from inside. Lawrence's assailants quickly lost their nerve and fled to the shadows beyond the bobbing lights of the gathered crowd, who looked only slightly more well-disposed than they.

"Oy, aren't you tha one who gave that smarmy prick Ernst the switch? Ha! Come over here and hav a drink, you look like you need it."

It was a very tempting proposal.

"Did ja get robbed out there by those scum?"

"No. I mean yes. They took my wife", Lawrence muttered. Though the gathering was talking incessantly amongst itself, they seemed to hear him somehow.

"Taking a man's wife from his own arms right at the center of town? Is there no shame left in this rotten world? By God, what are things coming to."

"Ha ha, I'll drink to that", someone intoned.

He was silently pulled inside in the well-lit interior where it seemed the house's whole assemblage and more were drinking and laughing. There were day-laborers, guards and watchmen, a few drunkards, and a doxy or two to serve them, Though they were common working men as he, he recognized none of the faces around him. What was he doing there? What was he to do? She had gone. Surely death was in store for her now. But if there was still a chance, any chance.

"Your master! He can help me, I must see him now! He can help me get her back, I know who they are and what they want. So does he."

"See our master? What's the peasant on about?"

"Well he did see him this afternoon, didn't he?"

"Are you sure those weren't the constables that was chasin him?"

"Be quiet you louts."

The large man stood before him. He seemed to command respect from the rest and spoke calmly.

"Master van Heit is not here as it's after dark. You may return in the morning to request an audience."

"The master is here, upstairs in his study."

All eyes turned to a man in the back, prim and gaudily dressed, but with collar and cuffs undone, who had just filled his mug from the enormous keg that the men had tapped.

"I shall inform his excellency of your arrival as soon as I have, erm, refreshed myself."

He was led upstairs into a sizable library which was totally dark save for a single candle placed upon a desk. Van Heit sat at it, looking much the same as he had the day before, intently scratching on some parchment. Startled by the sudden appearance of a guest, he stood.

"Heer d'Baelen? I do not uh.. expect you at this hour."

He clearly had not expected to be speaking French that night at all. Lawrence bowed deeply as the servant did the same and left them to their business.

"Please forgive my intrusion, lord. I beg your mercy, and your aid. My wife, Diana, whom you have met, has been stolen from me this night."

"Stolen? You mean she was kidnapped? Where did this happen?"

"Just outside, in the streets in front of your warehouse. We were being chased from our room by some cutthroats. She ran to distract them so I could get to safety here. Please, I beg your help, I know you must be able to do something to get her back! They must still be in the city, I-"

"Please be calm, monsieur. Panic will do us no good now. Try to think of who might have such resources and such resentment of you or your wife to do such a thing. Oh, and I must ask, why is it that she was taken and not you as well? Did you manage to effect an escape?"

"I did. I escaped because she distracted them long enough that I could get away. It was the only way I could. And now they have her. They.. They must be working for that cardinal, this is revenge for the divulgence of his plan. There are no others who would do such a thing."

Lawrence's heart sank as the words left his mouth. One small Flemish company could not give ultimatums to the church. Even if their transgressions were made plain to every man and woman in Europe, why would they then return Horo? But why did they take her in the first place?

"I am inclined to believe this, since I heard a commotion outside mine own window, and there are few other powers in this city who are so audacious as to carry out such black handiwork in public. But there is reason to think that this is not the case at all. Are you so sure that you haven't made any other enemies, monsieur d'Baelen?"

"I know of no others. In truth, lord, I was not acquainted with risky endeavor until quite recently. I have spent most of my adulthood as a traveling peddler, dealing in goods of no value. There are none who would see my blood because there is no value to it, no more than the dust of the roads I walk."

Lawrence felt very small and helpless, more so than he ever had before. Marten did not look altogether convinced, but considered his words anyway. His head rested on his folded hands, looking fully imposing and impeccable despite the late hour.

"Well then, supposing that it is the power of the church that is trying to do you away in secret, it would mean that they do not know yet that you have given these contracts to me. This is a possibility, but not one I find very likely. Because, you see, I have already started buying the coins as an exploratory measure. So if our friend knew he had been compromised, he would surely have looked into this, and easily seen that I had done so. So then, what motivation does he have other than petty revenge for taking your wife? And more importantly, what harm does your missing wife do to my business or my investment? From a financial standpoint it makes no sense to apprehend the two of you, as it does nothing to prevent my plans or his own ruination."

"But you- nay, I, could expose their plan if they do not release her... That must be why. You are already invested in their currency, while I have nothing to lose. Exposing him would mean the loss of your profits too. So if she and I are done away with, there would be no danger to his reputation at least."

"That is very astute of you, monsieur. You may very well be correct."

He dispassionately stood and sat down again on the side of his desk, his chin on his hand. Lawrence felt the blood begin to drain from his face.

"...You will do nothing. Or would you silence me as well? I suppose it must be so."

"I am far from a perfect Christian, Lawrence." He spoke slowly, wearily.

"But I am not without a heart, and should I have had a wife taken from me, I know I would feel much the same as you. I do wish I could help, but the truth is that I am not a man of such power. My position here is as little more than an overseer for my father. His company has a modest presence in Liege that has been declining with the years and shows no sign of resurgence. We could not produce an adequate bribe for one of the city councilors, let alone a cardinal. Though I might wish it, I have no means to rescue your wife. Forgive me for my prattling, I'm sure it's no-"

The chamber door resounded with a staccato of knocks, followed immediately by the creak of its opening.

"Forgive the intrusion, lord. This er- letter just arrived. It was left at our door."

"..Let me see."

Startled, he stood from the desk as the servant entered and handed it to him. It looked hastily bound up by a length of ribbon without seal. He opened it and darted his eyes about it perplexedly for a few seconds before turning to Lawrence with a very grim look.

"Perhaps I should read this aloud."

Lawrence managed a nod.

_To all parties concerned,_

_We, the Holy Inquisition of the One True Church, by the authority of the Inquisitor General, and His Holiness, the Supreme Pontiff, have apprehended a person who is under strong suspicion of trafficking with daemons, sorcery, witchery, of making Satanic pacts, of being a childe of Satan, and a number of other blasphemies and affronts to Holy Law which for the sake of brevity are omitted here, whom we understand to be associated with the parties to whom we address this notice._

_We inform you that any and all associations with this person or creature that we have now in our custody is considered a grave lapse of faith, and a dire transgression against the Catholic Church. We shall carry out a thorough investigation upon the affairs of the receiving party once a proper confession has been obtained, and will deliver all culpable persons to justice in due time. We let it be known that, in our benevolence, for those who come forward voluntarily to their earned judgment, we will overlook certain unlawful purchases and business transactions of recent in favor of the more serious crime._

_By the grace and infinite mercy of the Lord our God, all sins shall be rectified, and all who sin shall taste the joy of salvation beyond the crucible of the world. It is our highest wish that those who stray from the righteous path will find their way back again, in this life or the next._

_Christ be with you always._

_Sincerely,_

_Inq. Ptr. Rosario Gaspar,_

_Representative of the Holy Inquisition in Liege_

Marten had begun to pace about the room in obvious unease, brushing off and straightening his vest as if some dirt had just come upon it. Lawrence could scarcely move at all. Eventually, after taking a long time to pause in thought, Marten put down the letter and slowly sat down at his desk.

"...If there was ever the flicker of a doubt that this is a problem beyond my means, it has now been thoroughly snuffed. I knew there would be consequences... But to bring such accusations to bear against your wife is simply... unconscionable. And somehow I have the feeling there is something you have not told me."

Marten's composure had returned quickly, though Lawrence only just so. His knees quaked. Money and ruined reputations were the least of their concerns now. When did the Lord himself issue the edict that his person should be put to ruin and dissolution? When did he become such a fool? Perhaps Horo really was a devil after all. But just then, from the black, crooked pulpits that he had so often scorned, came a sudden and striking inspiration. If there was nothing left to hope, perhaps there was something left to say.

"In truth, sir, there is something you do not know about my wife. It is something we have kept as secret as we possibly could, since the day of our marriage, for our greatest fear is that just such a thing might happen... Forgive me, it is not something I could speak of easily, even to a friend."

His gaze lowered to his feet. Nothing else was left for him to do, but confess.

"My intention is to deliver your lady from harm's way and return her to you, heer Lawrence. Whatever secret she bears, I do solemnly swear upon my honor and good name to keep between us."

Lawrence was quite surprised to hear him utter such words. Not for the strangely supportive interest he had taken in Horo and he, but the certainty with which he pinned his word. A merchant with sense and decent character made no such promises, even as one man before the gallows to another. It was in all ways out of character. But in the dancing of the candle light he thought he saw briefly flashing in his eyes something like the knightly virtue of old. Resolutely, he raised his chin to meet his clear and direct gaze.

"Very well. The truth is that Diana does not hail from Liege, neither this city nor any of the surrounding provinces. She is not actually from the Netherlands at all, which we have been all to careful to disguise for fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention. To divulge her real identity would bring calamity upon us here, in the shadow of the church and all its power. But from these recent and terrible events, I know it is no use trying to hide it any longer."

Lawrence huffed up a deep sigh to invigorate himself as Marten listened with rapt attention.

"I shall never forget the moment I first met my Diana. It was about ten years ago, when I was just out of boyhood, and she still a child. She came into the city with her mother, the two of them traveling alone on foot. They wore rags and looked to be in the most wretched state imaginable. I had no idea at the time who she was, as there are many refugees who come in from the countryside all the time here. But I remembered her face, for it struck me as the most beautiful and pure I had ever seen, even dirty and downcast as it was. A time passed, but I spotted her again in the market. She had a threadbare blanket set out near the entrance and was selling some half-rotted fruit and little handmade things. She was there by herself, so it seemed apparent that her mother had died. She looked utterly destitute, and not one soul paid her any mind at all. In my youthful foolishness I approached her and tried to cheer her up with my company, I even bought a few things from her for many times more than their worth. But it was no use, she was so solemnly tacit that I could hardly provoke a response at all. So great was her pain of heart. But her beauty, even despite her miserable state, was such that I could never bear to leave her be, no matter how hopeless a case she seemed. Almost every day I went to see her, and very slowly she began to warm to me. With much difficulty and pain I learned of her harrowed past. She fled with her mother, her only surviving family, from France, having barely survived the horrible wars and massacres of Protestants there which have only recently subsided. She had seen her father and all her brothers and sisters murdered and defiled by soldiers and bloodthirsty peasants, but still refused to convert, and so for the sake of survival fled here whilst keeping her faith a secret. I felt such pity and sympathy for her that I promised myself that I would never leave her side. So as time passed we began to wander the countryside together, slowly she began to shed her mourning clothes, and her vivacious and captivating personality began to shine through to me, as bright as the sun. We soon wed. But still, the pain of her past has always hung over us. It has never left, even now. Despite what it may appear, she is a very fragile girl, always crying out in her sleep. I fear that being suddenly being taken by these dirty beasts to the clutches of an inquisitor was too much for her poor soul to bear. I fear she may have become hysteric and lost her sense, this being such an awful reminiscence for her. The inquisitor must have realized that she is a Protestant, and so brings these awful charges against her, and us as well. Please, I beseech you to give whatever aid you can, before it is too late."

He surprised himself with the fluency with which he spun the yarn, which was taken in part from a real memory of his, though not one of Horo. Marten was himself captivated and seemed quite moved by the whole performance. He fidgeted nervously and seemed quite distressed. Perhaps she would be proud of him, but thinking of her only disheartened him more. In truth it had done no good at all, for there was no way to get her back anyhow.

"Well monsieur Lawrence, there is one avenue that has yet gone unmentioned. I hesitated before, as it is so far-fetched that I cannot really say anything of its merit, apart from it being the only choice left."

Marten stood and paced to the still open window, gazing into the inscrutable darkness beyond.

"I understand that there is a particular person in the city, with whom I have become familiar through my various agents. It is most interesting, it is said he can make almost anything happen if he but wills it, though I doubt that much is true. He is, however, a man of some influence who is associated with the church in his own.. odd way. I can say with confidence that if there is anyone in at all who might have a chance of getting our dearest lady released, it is he, though I, of course, can vouch for nothing. I understand he is someone with whom you are already acquainted, monsieur Lawrence."

_*Also known as Hieronymus Bosch_


End file.
